So You Had a Bad Day
by Merlin71
Summary: Chase is having a bad day after day after day. Basically just little bits and pieces of what life is throwing his way of late.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Chase is having a bad day after day after day. Basically just little bits and pieces of what life is throwing his way of late. Spoilers for Season 3 to date.  
R rating for mature language._

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part one**

Chase made a pit stop in diagnostics. He hadn't spent much time there in the three months since House had been shot. None of them had. Cameron split her time between the labs and the clinic. Foreman did consults in neurology and attended a few seminars, all with Cuddy's blessing. Chase figured he'd lucked out because Cuddy let him rotate between ICU, NICU and PICU. He discovered he enjoyed his time in pediatrics ICU the best. It was hard to see kids who were sick and who often died, but there was something almost epiphanic about saving the life of a child. It was different from working with newborns, different in a way Chase didn't want to figure out.

Today he stopped in the conference room to take a break. He'd been on a ten hour shift and he was going to do an extra few hours for the Intensivist on call who was going to be late. But he needed a bit of down time and a good cup of coffee, so he headed to the counter to make his own - since the stuff already in the pot looked like tar - and had just poured a fresh-brewed cup and was sitting down at the table to work on one of his puzzle books, when Cameron entered.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking surprised to see him.

"I work here," Chase was sublime in his response, not looking at her as he studied his puzzle, so he missed the frown Cameron threw his way.

She poured herself a cup of coffee then joined him, drumming her fingers on the table top until he looked up at her, then she smiled. "House is due back in three days," she said, in a tone that suggested she was revealing some kind of secret.

It was Chase's turn to frown. "Yeah, I know." He'd heard it through the grapevine, so to speak. It was hard to keep secrets in this place. Everyone seemed to know everyone else's business. Like when he and Cameron had slept together. Chase hadn't told anyone and he knew Cameron hadn't. House had figured it out, of course, but he didn't seem a likely candidate for telling. Which left Foreman as the blabbermouth, but Chase hadn't called him on it. It was something he wanted to stay in his past and bringing it up again would just make it linger. He figured if Cameron had had a problem with it, she'd have pursued it, but she seemed to have followed his lead and put it behind her.

"It's going to be weird coming back here to work." Cameron's tone was almost hesitant, like she wasn't sure how she felt about what she was saying.

"A good weird," Chase stated, earning a surprised look from Cameron. He rolled his eyes at her. "What? I like it here."

She made a face at that, then heaved a rather dramatic sigh. "I've missed it."

Chase snorted at that. "You've missed House."

"And you haven't?" Cameron countered, looking offended.

"Not the way you have," Chase shot back at her. It was no secret how she felt about House, so he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. "I don't want to sleep with him." He was crossing the line into asshole territory, but he didn't care. He was too tired to care. The fact that he hadn't been sleeping great for the past few weeks added to the weight of his exhaustion, making it drag him down far more than the extra shift hours normally would. Which also meant he was tired enough to say stupid shit. Which meant he might say more stupid shit if he didn't watch himself. Cameron was like a sponge whenever anyone gave up personal information. He didn't want to give her any information she could turn back around on him in the future. Her imagination, coupled with their past history, had given her more ammunition than he was happy with as it was.

Pinning Chase with a hurt look, Cameron couldn't seem to stop herself from prodding him. "Why do you like it here? House treats you like crap."

Chase shrugged at that, and finding her words amusing. "He treats all of us like crap," he reminded her.

"But he seems to ride you the most. Or rather, he's more...cruel." Cameron didn't look happy with her own words. Like saying them left a bad taste in her mouth.

"What do you care?" Chase found himself responding. Then silently cursing himself because his question was an open invitation for Cameron to continue with this particular subject matter. Which he was not the least bit interested in pursuing.

Making a face at him, Cameron took a moment as if considering her reply. "We've worked together for three years, Chase."

He made a face back at her, one that clearly conveyed the confusion he was feeling at her reply. "So? What does that matter?"

"It means we've known each other long enough for me to care about you." Cameron was almost stuttering in her attempt to explain herself.

"Don't. Don't care about me, not in any way," Chase countered, sounding a bit more sharp edged than he had intended too. He liked Cameron. When he let himself think about her, he recognized that he was still attracted to her. But he wasn't a fool, or an idiot, no matter that House liked to call him one. He knew Cameron wanted House and that the only reason she'd slept with him when she was high was because she knew he was attracted to her and that she could manipulate him into doing it. Not one of his finer moments, and definitely not a moment he ever intended let be repeated. He didn't need Cameron. There were plenty of nurses in the hospital he could sleep with, if he wanted too. Although the few he had slept with had tended to gossip about it, hence he'd not called them back again. Chase had never had a problem getting women to like him, so he didn't need to complicate his already messy life by letting his attraction to Cameron get in the way of his job. Really, he couldn't think of anything worth risking his job for, but he'd almost fucked that up once already with the Vogler debacle.

Not that that whole mess had been of his making. Cuddy had pushed him into that FUBAR scenario and it had nearly cost him everything that mattered. Not that Chase wanted to think about that anymore. What was done, was done. He realized he had zoned out with his thoughts when Cameron smacked her hand down on the table to get his attention. "What?" Chase said, trying to hide his irritation.

Cameron was eyeing him with concern. "You look tired."

"I am tired." Chase pushed away from the table, dropping his puzzle book and snagging his coffee. He took a few long sips and willed the caffeine to rejuvenate him. He also wished for Cameron to leave him alone.

"How long have you been here?" Cameron asked, following him over to the counter. She watched him warm his cup then reached for a mug and held it out to be filled.

Chase poured the coffee for her, not answering her question for the moment. But when she wouldn't stop staring at him, he countered with a question of his own. "Have you been to see House at all?" Once the Diagnostician had been released from the hospital, he had disappeared somewhere for his rehab. Chase hadn't bothered to ask around. He figured if House wanted to disappear, it was his right to do so.

The question seemed to rattle Cameron a bit and she got up to dump her untouched coffee, before replying. "No. Not since he left. You?"

"Why would I?" Chase was surprised that she'd asked. She knew they weren't exactly friends. Most of the time, Chase wasn't exactly sure how to define what he and House were. Boss and minion mostly, he supposed. A fact that probably should have bothered him a lot more than it did.

"I dunno," Cameron replied, then she heaved a rather dramatic sigh. "I just feel like we're supposed to be talking about him, but it feels awkward."

That was the most honest thing she'd probably said to him in months, Chase thought. But he kept that comment to himself. "Why do we have to talk at all?" he shot back.

Which earned him a glare from Cameron. "Because that's what people do. If they're in a room together, they talk."

"You're getting touchy," Chase pointed out, because Cameron's voice was starting to get a bit shrill. "Maybe you should go home."

"I'm not the one who's been working double shifts!" Cameron shot back, sounding defensive.

It occurred to Chase to wonder that she knew about his hours. And if she knew, then why had she asked him? Then again, it was Cameron. The one thing she had in common with House was the desire to know things. Only most of the things she wanted to know tended to be none of her business. Since he really didn't have a response for Cameron, nor did he feel her comment warranted one, Chase simply focused on his puzzle book. He hoped Cameron would get the hint and either leave or sit there, silently. She could always go and answer House's email, like she usually did.

But Cameron chose to stay and pace, bumping into Chase's shoulder as she passed behind him. He knew it was an accident so he didn't respond to it. But he did respond to his beeper going off. Tossing aside the puzzle book, he shot to his feet then found himself gripping the side of the table to keep his balance when a wave of dizziness hit him.

"Chase?" Cameron, of course, had noticed and was by his side in an instant. "You okay?"

"Fine." The dizziness quickly passed and he made himself smile at her. "Just got up too fast. Stupid head rush. Gotta go." The page had been from ICU, so it was a definite emergency. Chase stepped around Cameron and ran for the door. Two minutes later he was back to work.

Twelve hours later he was home but gave up on trying to sleep after he spent two hours tossing and turning. Instead he watched Lord of the Rings. Two of them, before heading for the shower and back to work.

OoO

The next day, Chase split his time between ICU and Peds ICU. He was in Peds and making rounds when his beeper went off. Which surprised him. ICU had coverage and he was in Peds so if there was an emergency he would have heard the alarm. Cursing under his breath, Chase grabbed his pager and stared at the message. Daddy's Home. He knew what that meant.

House was back.

That fact startled Chase a bit, since his boss wasn't scheduled back for two more days. Then again, House never followed the rules in general, so it wasn't really surprising he'd show up early. Still, Chase was scheduled for Peds, so it wasn't like he could just walk away.

After finishing his rounds, Chase took note that Dr. Gray had arrived and he explained to her about his page and she told him to go ahead and she'd page him if she needed him. Chase told her he'd be back for rounds later then headed off. He felt almost nervous as he stepped into the elevator. When it opened and he stepped out onto the fourth floor, he hesitated a moment. Chase was glad House was back but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to his return. He then rolled his eyes at himself. Like House gave a crap what he did. So Chase would do what he always did and follow House's lead. He had learned that pattern of behavior from taking care of his mother. He would gauge how to be and what to do and say, based on her mood for the day. Doing so had made taking care of her easier on him.

A yawn snuck up on Chase and he realized he needed a caffeine hit. So he headed the other way, turning the corner and making his way over to the soda machine. He bought a Mt. Dew and downed half of it on his way back to the office. He had most of it gone by the time he walked through the doors. The slight buzz it gave him felt pleasant and he was smiling as he caught sight of his boss.

House was leaning against the table, smirking at Cameron. Chase heard her asking him about his rehab sessions and he could imagine how thrilled House was about that. Grinning to himself, Chase headed for his usual chair at the end of the table, only to find himself confronted by House.

"You're late," House said, looming over Chase.

"You're early," Chase shot back, and he was rather pleased by his come back.

House grinned at him. "Lame," he drawled.

Chase shrugged, then felt a bit awkward. Which led to his mumbling, "Um...good to have you back." And it was then he noticed House didn't have his cane, nor was he leaning with all his weight on his good leg. He was standing up straight and smiling. Which was more like a smirk, coming from House. They all knew about the Ketamine, but no one had expected this. "The treatment worked," Chase stated.

"Apparently," House replied, turning smartly and walking over to the whiteboard. He grabbed a black marker and uncapped it. "We have a case, boys and girl, so pay attention!"

"I'm still on shift with Peds ICU," Chase piped up. Although knowing House, he already knew that.

"You work for me," was House's reply, without turning around.

Chase didn't respond to that. If he got called he'd have to go and they both knew it. He'd just deal with House's griping later, if necessary. Instead he focused on the symptoms House was writing on the board, and on the file Foreman shoved in his direction. He didn't dwell on the fact that today felt a bit like coming home to him.

House without pain was like a whirlwind. He ended up surprising them with the fact they actually had two cases to work on, then he shot down most of their suggestions before splitting them up to handle various tests and the like between the two patients.

Taking his soda with him, Chase made another pit stop at the candy machine. He was going to need a lot of sugar and caffeine to get through this day.

OoO

They solved one case rather easily and Chase ended up not getting called to Peds ICU, which meant he could devote all of his attention to House and their cases and running tests and the like. House was on his game in most ways, but to Chase it seemed like there was something off about him. He figured it didn't help that Cameron seemed determined to psychoanalyze House every chance she got.

So he wasn't all that surprised when she suggested they go out for drinks after work. They being himself, Cameron and Foreman. Chase was tired, but not quite tired enough to attempt sleeping, so he agreed to go. A drink might help relax him, and he was pretty sure Cameron's House commentary would be amusing. And he wasn't wrong.

"It's great that he can walk without the cane!" Cameron enthused, the moment the waitress walked away with their drink orders.

"Sure," Foreman replied, fiddling with a napkin and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Cameron pinned him with a glare. "You're not happy for him?"

Foreman rolled his eyes at her. "It's great he can walk without pain, but there's a chance it won't last."

"Which means his good mood won't last," Chase interjected, and he felt Cameron's glare turned on him. It was easy to ignore it after years of practice.

"You got that right," Foreman commented, with a chuckle, and he got Cameron's glare turned back on him.

"Lighten up," Chase chided her. "House isn't going to become Mr. Rogers just because he's not using a cane for the moment."

With a sigh of frustration, Cameron gave up glaring at them, but her tone was sharp when she responded to Chase. "Why can't you be happy for him for being pain free for the first time in years?"

Chase was surprised by the question. "What difference would it make if I'm happy for him or not? He couldn't care less what I think or feel."

Foreman snorted at that. "That's for sure. House doesn't care what anyone thinks about him. He's a miserable bastard, period. He might be riding the high of being pain free instead of a Vicodin high, but he's still House. Don't expect him to change, Cameron."

"I don't want him to change!" she protested, looking angry. "I'm just happy for him that he's not suffering right now."

There were so many tempting responses to that comment and Chase had one on the tip of his tongue when his pager went off. He glanced at it and grimaced. "Gotta go."

Foreman looked concerned. "Our patient?"

"No. Problem in NICU and they're short handed. I told them I'd be on call." As he spoke, Chase reached for his coat and slid out of the booth.

"You're working too many hours," Cameron commented, eyeing him with concern.

Chase made a face at her. "Are you keeping track or something?"

Foreman replied before Cameron could. "Better watch out, Chase. House will put you in the dog house for not devoting yourself to his cases." It was said in a teasing tone, but there was an element of truth behind it.

"Don't I know it," Chase replied, grinning. But he was used to being out of favor with House and at this point he really didn't care. Shrugging on his jacket he grabbed the keys out of his pocket and waved at his co-workers. "See you tomorrow," Chase called over his shoulder, as he headed for the door.

He made it back to the hospital in five minutes and went straight to work. It was a rough night for two of the babies, both preemies, and Chase was beyond tired by the time he got them holding their own. When he glanced at his watch he realized he had about eight hours before he had to be back to work. Not a lot of time to sleep, not that he was likely to fall asleep anyway. Still, he changed out of his scrubs and headed home. A hot shower eased the tension a bit and Chase crawled into bed, fully expecting to stare at the ceiling for the next few hours. But, to his surprise he drifted off to sleep within minutes.

Not so surprisingly, he was up before the alarm. Only four hours of sleep, but that was about three hours more than he'd been averaging for the past few days, so he was content. He let himself drowse for an hour while flipping through channels on the TV, then he showered and got dressed before sitting down with his lap top and catching up on his emails. By the time he was done it was time to leave for work.

He was the first one into the office. Chase was glad. He liked being first, it gave him a bit of down time before hell broke loose. And now that House was back, life was going to be chaotic again. A part of Chase thought that might be a good thing. His job was the one area of his life where he didn't really mind a bit of chaos.

Heading for the coffee machine, Chase made a pot then settled in with a Sudoku book and had nearly completed one when he heard the door open. He expected to see Cameron, but House entered the room. Chase frowned at him. "You're early," he commented.

"Still a lame comeback," House replied, making his way over to the counter. He availed himself of the freshly made coffee and took a sip before stating," So I heard through the grapevine that you're the one who diagnosed the swollen tongue guy."

"Uh...yeah," Chase replied, feeling pretty sure House was setting him up for something. After all, he was months behind in his taunts and digs to Chase.

House smirked at him. "Nice work. I figured Cameron would be the one to go the allergy route."

Chase frowned at House, wondering what his point was. Since he was pretty sure there was a point to this conversation. "It was an easy diagnosis," he explained, although it was rather stupid of him to do so. Nothing like shooting himself down to save House the trouble.

"Neato peachy keen, man!" House replied, channeling Keanu Reeves. Then he took his coffee and went into his office leaving Chase waiting for the real punch line.

Strangely enough, House didn't say another word about it. Not to Chase or to Cameron and Foreman when they arrived. They worked on the second case, ran more tests, did various errands and procedures, then it was time to go home. He stopped by a nearby Chinese restaurant for take out on the way home, then he was dragging his way into his apartment, tossing the Chinese in the fridge. He was too tired to eat. Instead he took a quick shower and climbed into bed. He fell asleep watching the news and slept for six hours straight.

It occurred to Chase to wonder that he was sleeping better than he had in months, and it was all to easy to relate it to House being back. He didn't want to believe they were related events, but it was eerie. He'd started not sleeping the night House had gotten shot. The day House came back to work he started sleeping again. Not the night through or anything, but for longer stretches than he had managed before.

Shaking his head at himself, Chase slid out of bed and retrieved the Chinese from the fridge. He was starving. Once he'd waded through most of it he tossed the rest out, brushed his teeth and climbed back into bed. He managed to doze for the next hour before giving up and getting in the shower. After getting dressed he killed time checking his emails and surfing the web, and going through the mail he'd been ignoring for the past week. He paid his bills online and still had an hour to kill before he needed to head into work.

Because he was getting antsy, Chase decided to take the scenic route to work, which would kill thirty minutes or so. But even as he got behind the wheel of his car, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. But he tried to put it out of his head by slipping his favorite Green Day CD into the player. Later in the day he would curse himself for not listening to his sixth sense.

**THE END...of part one**


	2. Chapter 2

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 2**

When House came breezing into the conference room, he was surprised to find it empty. At the very least he had expected to find Chase there, with the coffee made. Grumbling to himself, he went to the counter and made his own coffee, then he went in search of Wilson. Not surprisingly, Wilson was in his office, eating a bagel. House grinned and stole half of it, enjoying the thick slathering of cream cheese.

"You're scaring me," Wilson commented.

"You've seen me eat before," House pointed out, licking a dollop of cream cheese off his thumb. "You should be past the scared phase and now somewhat fascinated.

Rolling his eyes, Wilson clarified. "You keep showing up early. It just feels wrong somehow." Grabbing his remaining half of bagel, he bit into it with far more finesse than House showed. But that didn't stop him from getting cream cheese smeared on his chin. He reached for his napkin only to have it snatched away by House, who smirked at him. Sighing, Wilson retrieved another napkin from his desk drawer.

House watched him with amusement. "Always such a boyscout, Jimmy," he taunted. "Extra napkins on hand. Bet you have condoms in your wallet too. And a neatly folded hanky in your pocket."

"Your point being?" Wilson shot back, as he meticulously wiped his chin.

"I don't have a point." House dropped down into the chair across from Wilson's desk and polished off the rest of the bagel half. "Chase isn't here yet." He watched for Wilson's reaction to his comment.

Frowning, Wilson replied, "So?" He glanced at his watch. "He's not late."

It wasn't much fun mocking his friend when he wouldn't play along, so House gave up trying to torment him for his own entertainment and said quietly, "He's always the first one in. Has been since he started working for me. Of course, back then it was because he was trying to impress the teacher."

"And now?" Wilson prompted, looking only marginally interested in where this was going.

"Now it's habit." House leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle. He took a moment to enjoy the fact that he could do so with only a twinge of pain. A twinge he was careful to keep hidden. "Chase is a creature of habit. I'm sure it offers him great comfort. Personally, I'd go with a hooker...but that's just me."

Turning away from House, Wilson set his bagel on the bookcase. He turned back and House grinned at him, knowing that he was doing it to keep it out of House's grubby paws. Wilson ignored the grin. "Why do you care that Chase is late?"

Rising from his chair, House headed for the door. But he threw an answer over his shoulder. "I don't care, I'm just curious." With that he headed back to his office for a cup of coffee and the chance to glance through the morning paper he'd stolen from the nurse's station on the way in.

OoO

Chase didn't show up for the differential, which pissed House off enough to page him repeatedly. When the pages were ignored, House was ready to send Cameron and Foreman off to find the Aussie, only to have Wilson stride into the conference room looking grim.

"Chase is in the emergency room," he announced.

"What happened?" Cameron was the first to respond, her face going pale as she rose to her feet. "Is he all right?"

Wilson nodded at her, waving his hands. "He's fine. He's not injured. I don't know the details but apparently he came across a bus accident on the way in and he brought in one of the kids. Cuddy is there and she said she'll keep you updated."

House looked at Wilson for a moment then he tapped his marker on the white board. "Okay, boy and girl, pay attention to the symptoms and give me something to work with!"

Cameron sat back down and tried to focus.

Foreman followed suit.

House gave them only half his attention, watching Wilson walk out the door.

OoO

He didn't want her to die.

That was the thought running through Chase's head as his fingers massaged the little girl's heart. She was bleeding out, white as a ghost, barely breathing but damn if he was going to stop trying. He prayed between squeezes, willing her to keep breathing, to keep on living. A detached part of his focus wondered if her parents knew. If they were on their way. If they would be in time.

"We're losing her!"

Chase recognized Dr. Reeve's voice. She was head of Emergency day shift and he knew she was good at her job. But he was the one with his hand on the girl's heart. He was the one failing to do his job. He was supposed to keep her alive. Resisting the urge to close his eyes, Chase kept counting and squeezing as a team of doctors and nurses bustled around him, trying to keep the girl alive. He didn't even know her name. All he knew was that she had brown eyes and dark hair and that she was about eight years old. Too young to die.

The sound of the flatline from the heart monitor made Chase jump. He flinched for a moment, fingers tightening too hard and he felt sick at the thought that he might have hurt the little girl, hand flexing open for a moment. The irritating beep of the monitor reminded him of his job at hand and he went back to squeezing her heart, keeping count under his breath, hearing Dr. Reeve's calling the time of death but he didn't stop squeezing.

She was too young to die.

"Chase." 

A hand on his arm made him flinch. He kept squeezing until fingers clamped over his wrist, then he looked up to see Cuddy standing before him. She looked sad, her eyes overly bright as she squeezed his arm.

"She's gone," Cuddy said softly. "It's over, Chase."

"Right." He knew what she was saying, knew it was true. The heart in his hand wasn't beating and someone turned off the monitor. The sudden quiet hurt his ears, the silent echo throbbing in his temples. He was still squeezing, his fingers acting on reflex until Cuddy reached over and uncurled his fingers. He realized she was wearing latex gloves. It was a stupid thing to notice. By the time she had pulled his hand away, taking him by the arm with her clean hand, he had come back to full awareness of himself. He shook Cuddy's hand off his arm. "Sorry," Chase whispered.

Cuddy nodded, offering a brittle smile. "You did all you could do." 

He thought she meant to be reassuring but it sounded almost condescending to his ears. Chase silently chided himself. Cuddy was doing her job and he was supposed to be doing his. House would be wating for him. "I have to change." Looking down he realized he was covered in blood.

"I'll tell House you'll be up soon," Cuddy replied.

"Thanks." It was probably one of the longest conversations they had ever had, and Chase was pretty sure it was the most awkward, so he turned and walked away from her, tugging off his gloves and depositing them in the nearest receptacle. He felt a little bit like he was unravelling at the seams and he was annoyed at himself. He was used to losing patients, it was part of the package deal with being an Intesivist. But losing that little girl hurt in a way Chase didn't want to think about. It made him feel sick and angry and he fumbled for his usual detachment, not finding it readily accessible to him this time.

By the time he reached the locker room, Chase had a hand clamped over his mouth. He made it into the toilet stall barely in time to heave the coffee he'd drank into the bowl. It didn't taste so good coming back up. By the time he was done gagging he felt shaky, but after rinsing out his mouth he was able to grab some scrubs, strip off his bloody clothes and step into the shower. He had learned to keep extra sets of underwear and tee shirts on hand, so he pulled them on then, the scrubs, once he'd washed up and dried off. 

His hair caused him some minor difficulties, since he couldn't find a comb, but he did what he could then stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had to put on his work face. The facade he presented to the rest of the world. Chase wasn't about to let House see anything he didn't want him to see. The man would take anything he could get and run with it, using whatever it might be against Chase to torment him. He wasn't in the mood for that today. It would be hard enough to deal with the usual smart ass remarks and taunts.

After a moment of reflection he felt ready. Chase left the locker room and headed for Diagnostics. But the moment he entered the office he knew something was wrong. Something felt off. It was the way everyone looked at him as he entered the room.

"Chase, are you okay?" Cameron asked, crossing the room and confronting him before he'd barely taken a step inside.

"I'm fine." He frowned at her, confused by the question.

Foreman walked by, coffee cup in hand, and clapped him on the shoulder before moving to sit at the table.

Chase blinked at him then looked back at Cameron. "What's going on?"

"We heard about the little girl," Cameron replied. "Cuddy told us what happened."

"And?" Chase stepped around Cameron, moving to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee that he had no intention of drinking. He wasn't all that surprised when she followed him. Chase turned to face her, wondering at the sympathy he saw in her eyes. "What?" he demanded, feeling a bit freaked out by it.

Before Cameron could respond, House was there, plucking the coffee cup out of Chase's hand and taking a sip. "Can we get back to work now?" he mock-whined. "It's time to try and save those who are still among the living."

Chase was relieved by House's intervention, even though he had to stop himself from flinching at the reminder that one little girl was dead. He poured himself another cup of coffee that he wasn't going to drink, then he sat down and grabbed the file Foreman shoved in his direction. As he read the history he felt himself relaxing back into focus, drawing his detachment around him like a cloak. He even managed to offer up some suggestions that House didn't shoot down, and if he felt House's eyes staring into his back as he headed out of the room to run some tests, Chase let it slide.

House was back to work and things were finally back to normal. He didn't want to think about anything past that. And so went the course of his day.

But as he ran tests and did procedures and differentials, he couldn't keep away a nagging wonder. What if he hadn't come to work early? What if he had gone his normal route instead. Would the accident still have happened, or would someone had made a different choice too, changing the course of events just enough so that one little eight year old girl would still be alive?

It took his patient coding to drag Chase out of those musings and back into the present. But a part of him couldn't help wishing he could go back home and start this day over again.

OoO

Chase was more than a little surprised when Foreman invited him to go for drinks after work. Not that they hadn't done that a time or two before, but there was something different in Foreman's eyes this time. Something that looked eerily like pity. Which pissed Chase off. He hated pity. He had gone out of his way, his entire life, to make sure no one pitied him. The best way to do that, he learned, was to not tell them anything about himself or his past. Letting everyone make up their own minds about him, while giving off the impression of being little more than the obvious label of playboy slacker, made it easy for Chase to slide through life without people feeling sorry for him. Poor Little Rich Kid was the worst label ever. Especially since it was so incredibly wrong.

"We can go to Charlie's for a few," Foreman was saying. "I can drive."

"A drink sounds good," Chase replied, even as he reached for his messenger bag. "But I'm beat tonight. Maybe tomorrow?" Making it sound like he was interested was the quickest way to get someone to back off. And it worked.

Foreman nodded. "Sure. Have a good night, man."

Chase managed a smile then he was out the door. He made a detour on the drive home for the pizza place, which reminded him that he really needed to hit the grocery store soon to restock. He didn't even have milk for cereal, not that he ate a lot of cereal anyway. Which meant the two boxes in the cupboard were probably stale by now.

Once home, Chase ended up putting the untouched pizza in the fridge. He wasn't hungry. All the way home he was focused on one thing. The little girl and the way her heart had felt in his hand. Which rather effectively killed his appetite. But he did grab a diet coke out of the fridge, and a glass. Then he opened the corner cabinet and stared at his rather impressive array of alcohol. He had vodka and whiskey and brandy, along with wine and scotch and the bottle of spiced rum he was looking for. Diet coke and spiced rum made an interesting combination and Chase was in the mood for pretending he really wasn't in the mood to drink. To pretend that he just wanted to relax a moment before a shower and bed.

The one thing he didn't' have in his cupboard was gin. That was his mother's vice and Chase couldn't even tolerate the smell of it anymore. But that wasn't the only reason why he didn't have it in the house, or why he never drank it. Chase wasn't a fool. He knew his mother had been a full blown alcoholic, and that two members of her family had been alcoholics as well. Her brother, who was also dead now, and an aunt. Chase didn't want to become like his mum, so he figured if he didn't drink gin he wouldn't become addicted like she had. It fit with his line of reasoning in that if he ever hurt himself and needed medication, he would never ever take Vicodin. Dumb logic, but Chase clung to it like a lifeline.

Sitting at his kitchen table, Chase poured half a glass of diet coke then added a measure of rum. He swirled them in the glass, watching them combine, then he took a sip. Strong and smooth, just the way he liked it. He stayed at the table, trying not to remember the little girl as he drank. Trying to be stronger than the memories that haunted him. But the glass soon emptied itself and Chase found himself making another drink. But before he could take a sip he bolted up from the table and dumped the glass in the sink.

Hands gripping the edge of the sink, Chase watched the fizzling liquid go down the drain. He swallowed hard against sudden nausea then turned the water on to try and wash away the smell of the spiced rum. He then splashed his face with cold water, reaching for a paper towel to dry it. He didn't feel better and he told himself it was too much rum on an empty stomach, but no way was he going to try and eat anything right now. Turning away from the sink, Chase headed for the bathroom. He stripped and stepped into the stall and ran the water as hot as he could stand it.

Ten minutes later he was clean from head to toe, but he still felt sick to his stomach. He dried off, dressed in loose sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt and remembered to comb out his hair. He brushed his teeth, hoping to rid his mouth of the taste of rum then he crawled into bed. He was tired but he knew his mind wasn't going to click off tonight so he turned on the TV and tried to numb himself with mindless viewing but it was three AM before he fell asleep, only to dream about his mother dying, and himself standing over her coffin with her beating heart in his hand.

**THE END...of part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 3**

Chase knew he was tired. The desire to try and sleep standing up was a testimony to this fact, but an even bigger clue was that he was drinking cold, black, coffee. Gulping it down would be a better description of what he was doing. Gulping without even wincing as the rancid taste of it hit his tongue.

When the styrofoam cup was empty, Chase crushed it in his fist and tossed it in the waste can, then he leaned heavily against the counter with his eyes closed, waiting for the caffeine rush to hit him. He could feel it buzzing sluggishly through his veins, seemingly as lethargic as he was.

Peeling his eyes open, Chase pushed off the counter and headed for the door. He needed to check on the tests he was running before he could even think about heading home. But even as he reached the table, House came limping into the room. Chase felt the other man's blue gaze settle on him and it felt almost like an electical jolt. He looked away, feeling somehow like he had just been caught doing something wrong.

"Go home!" House snapped at him.

"I have tests I'm running!" Chase protested, even though he rather felt it was stupid of him to argue the point. It wasn't often House was willing to let one of them go home before their job was done.

House moved to stand directly in front of Chase, not saying a word until Chase lifted his head to meet the blue gaze. "Cameron took over your tests. Go home. Try not to have an accident on the way and when you get there, take this." As he spoke, House pulled a plain brown pill bottle out of his jacket pocket and held it out.

Chase stared at it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Something to make you sleep." House sounded a bit angry as he replied. "It works fast so be ready to crawl into bed the moment you take it and I don't expect to see you back here till noon."

"Are you kidding me?" Glancing at his watch, Chase quickly did the math. It was after ten pm. If he left now, went home and took a shower, ate something then took the pill and didn't show up till noon, that would mean the pill would knock him out for about twelve hours. Which meant House was offering him some potent shit.

House rolled his eyes. "Would I do that?" he taunted in a mock whine. "Just take the damn pill. If you show up before noon...you're fired." With that he tossed the bottle at Chase's feet then turned and walked out the door.

Eyes on the rolling bottle, Chase waited until he was sure House was gone before stooping to scoop it up. He yanked off the cap, after struggling with the damn thing for a minute, then he shook the pill out into the palm of one hand. It was small and pale pink without any markings. Chase didn't recognize it.

Tipping it back in the bottle, he put the top on then shoved it in his jeans pocket shifting against the uncomfortable bulge. He knew House was serious about firing him, so he shrugged off his lab coat, tossed it over the back of the nearest chair then grabbed his jacket and his messenger bag. He'd collected them earlier, when he'd thought he'd be going home around dinner time. Before their patient had coded and House had ordered them to run more tests. Foreman had snuck out around seven after asking Chase to cover for him so he could meet his girl friend for a late supper. Cameron had slipped off somewhere after that and Chase had figured she'd gone for the day too, but apparently not. Or maybe House had called her back. Chase wouldn't put that past him.

He decided he didn't care either way. He was going to go home and, hopefully, get some sleep.

The drive home was done on auto pilot and Chase was relieved to park in the garage and realize he apparently hadn't run any stop signs or lights or anything. Then he was inside and dropping his bag by the door. He knew he should eat something but he had downed a couple of candy bars at the hospital in the hopes of a sugar rush. All he'd really gained from doing that though was an irritating headache that throbbed behind his eyes.

Heading straight for the bathroom, Chase dug out the pill bottle and set it on the counter. Then he turned on the shower, stripped off his clothes and stepped into the cubicle. The hot spray felt heavenly, washing away at least a modicum of tension and weariness. He scrubbed his hair, washed up and rinsed, then he dried off, ran a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth then pulled on boxers and a t-shirt.

He felt tired enough to attempt to sleep without taking the pill, but at the same time he knew his brain wouldn't shut off without help. Trudging back into the bathroom, he kicked aside the wet towels, which he would ignore until morning, and reached for the bottle. He uncapped it, shook the pill directly into his mouth and swallowed it. It stuck a bit in the back of his throat so he grabbed the bottled water he always kept on the counter and chugged a few gulps.

Capping the water, Chase turned off the bathroom lights then headed into the other room and crawled into bed. Even as he settled himself under the covers he could feel a liquid warmth seeping through his veins leaving him feeling drowsy and heavy and he happily let his eyes drift closed.

A heartbeat later he was asleep.

OoO

Because Chase knew House would be anal enough to fire him if he showed up before noon to work, he showed up at noon on the dot. To find that Cameron was the only person in Diagnostics. "Where's everyone?" Chase asked, as he slung his jacket over the back of a chair and shrugged on his lab coat.

"House went to lunch and Foreman is running a scan," Cameron replied, looking up from the book she was reading to study him. "Where were you?"

"Had some stuff to do," Chase replied, off handedly. Then he forced a smile. "House didn't say anything?" He had wondered all the way over if House had told the others the truth about why he was late or whether he had bothered to say anything at all. Or, maybe even worse, he'd made up some fantastic lie that was guaranteed to make Chase miserable and humiliated.

Cameron shook her head. "He just said you were going to be late when I asked."

No surprise to Chase that Cameron had been the one to ask. Chase just nodded at her and moved to pour himself some coffee. He had slept better last night than he had in weeks, but he still felt tired. One of the side effects of sleeping pills was that they could leave you feeling lethargic. Which had always been the case the few times Chase had used them in the past. Whatever House had given him had been very potent, so he felt incredibly sluggish, even after a long shower this morning.

"You okay?"

Chase jumped at the question, not having heard Cameron get up and move to stand beside him. He was glad he had already finished pouring his cup before she'd spoke up. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

There was a moment of silence before Cameron replied. A moment during which she gave him an intensive once over. "You look tired," she stated.

"It's been a busy week." Chase figured that was an honest enough answer for her. He just hoped it got him off the hook. Cameron could be more tenacious than a dog with a bone when something - or someone - grabbed her attention. For whatever reason. But it wasn't his answer that got him off the hook. It was his pager. Chase frowned at the message. A page from Cuddy was never a good sign. "Gotta go," Chase said, abandoning his coffee. Feeling a bit anxious, he headed out the door.

All the way to Cuddy's office, Chase ran possible scenarios through his head as to why she had paged him. He doubted it was patient related as any page regarding a patient would come from House or the ICU direct. Racking his brain, Chase couldn't think of any reason why Cuddy would page him. He hadn't done anything wrong. He just had a Pavlovnian reaction to a page from Cuddy. He instantly felt guilty.

When he reached her office he noticed she wasn't alone. Chase thought maybe that would offer him a respite and he was about to turn away when Cuddy noticed him and waved him in. Grimacing, Chase pushed open the door and entered the room. That was when Cuddy's guest rose to her feet and Chase froze to the spot as he stared at her.

"Hello, Robert." The woman who spoke was in her late fifties with soft brown hair and hazel eyes. She was dressed in a business suit, her make up was perfectly applied and her face was attractive but worn.

It took a moment for Chase to form a reply and push it out. "Olivia. What are you doing here?" Rude, but he couldn't help it. She was the last person in the world he would have ever expected to see here. His father was dead so it made no sense that his widow would show up at PPTH. The last time Chase had seen his step mother was just before he had moved to the states. She had come over to his place to try and convince him not to leave.

Olivia Chase didn't seem upset by his rudeness, or the question. "We need to talk, Robert," she stated calmly. "And since you wouldn't call me back, I decided to visit you in person."

"Why?" Chase still didn't understand why she was here. He did, however, feel a twinge of guilt at her mention of phone calls. He had gotten her messages, starting two days after his father had died, but he'd deleted them all without listening. It had taken two weeks before she had stopped calling.

"May we talk privately?" Olivia directed the question to Cuddy.

The head of PPTH nodded and stepped out from around her desk. "Feel free to use my office." She smiled at Chase as she passed by him, then she was gone.

Chase had a bad feeling about what was to come and he was tempted to leave in Cuddy's wake.

Apparently Olivia sensed his desire to escape, because she moved to stand between him and the door. "You look good, Robert," she said softly, her eyes appraising him. "But then you always were a beautiful boy. I still remember how shocked I was the first time I saw you. You could use a hair cut though."

"Why are you here?" Chase countered bluntly. He didn't feel like reminiscing with her. Even though her words brought up the memory of the first time they had met. At Chase's mother's funeral. Olivia had been nothing but polite to Chase, even though he had done nothing in return but glare at her and otherwise, pointedly, ignore her existance. At the end of the very long day he had apologized to her for his rudeness, before leaving without looking back. Without stopping when his father tried to call him back. Chase didn't want to remember that day.

"I know my being here isn't exactly pleasant for you, Robert," Olivia spoke up. "I didn't come here to upset you."

Chase heard the sincerity in her words and nodded sharply, but he knew that her reason for being here was going to upset him anyway. "I'm guessing whatever brought you here has to do with my father." It was a statement, not a question.

Olivia regarded Chase a moment, then she moved to sit on the couch. "Come sit with me," she beseeched him. "I want you to listen for just a moment."

"I can't think of anything we'd have to talk about," Chase shot back, not moving. "And anything regarding my father, I'm not interested in."

"Sit down!" The tone was sharp and firm like a school teacher might use on a misbehaving student. Before forming her own Interior design company, Olivia had taught primary school in England. She eyed Chase now, expecting to be obeyed.

He hated himself for giving in, but soon he was sitting in the chair across from her.

Olivia nodded approvingly, then began. "I want you to accept the money that your father left you in his will." She raised a hand to cut Chase off before he could reply. "Just listen first, then you can argue with me." When he nodded, she continued. "You're his only child, Robert. I was never interested in having children and --"

"...neither was my father!" Chase interjected. He couldn't help himself. Then he was on his feet and willing himself to walk out the door. But a hand touched his arm and he turned to see Olivia by his side.

"He wasn't Father of the year by any means," she conceded. "But he loved you in his own way."

Chase shook his head. "I don't believe that and I don't want his money! You keep it!"

Olivia gripped his coat sleeve when he attempted to leave. She tugged him back around to face her. "I don't need the money and you've earned it. And to that end I've set you up with an account here. I have the paper work and all you need to do is sign it. The money will be there for you when you need it."

"I don't need it!" Chase tugged away from her grip and paced over to the door. "You shouldn't have come here, Olivia. And you can give the money to whomever you like. I don't want it!" Just thinking about it made him feel things he didn't want to feel. Made him angry with his father all over again. Chase was tired of being angry.

"The money belongs to you, Robert." Olivia moved to his side and her voice was gentle and warm as she continued. "Sign the papers then do what you want with it. But the money is yours."

There was nothing to say to her. Chase knew she wouldn't change her mind. He had learned that much about her through the years, without even wanting too. Stepping away from her, he reached for the door and pushed his way through. He wanted to leave, to just go somewhere that wasn't here, but he had work to do. So Chase headed back to the office to find it empty. He paged Foreman then headed off to the lab to meet up with him. He needed to focus on something, anything, so he wouldn't have to feel anymore.

OoO

House had been hovering outside of Cuddy's office. He had returned from lunch and was surprised not to see Chase. So he'd asked Cameron where to find him and she told him about Chase being paged to Cuddy's office. He wished he could have eavesdropped on the conversation, but he hadn't wanted to get caught out. But given Chase's emotional state when he'd left, something bad had happened.

Limping into the office, House grinned at the woman standing there. She looked surprised to see him, but recovered quickly. "I'm House and you are?"

"Olivia Chase." She smiled back grimly. "You're Robert's boss."

"And I'm guessing you're his step mom." House made it a statement and he didn't need her nod to know it was a fact. "So what brings you all the way out here? Someone else in the family die?"

Olivia arched an eyebrow at him, then gave him an assessing look. "I need a favor from you, Dr. House."

That surprised House enough to want to at least know what the favor was. But first he had another question. "Why me?"

"Because Rowan spoke of you and Robert when he returned from his visit," Olivia replied. "And even though he didn't like you much, I could tell from what he said that Robert admires you."

"Worships me is more like it," House shot back, watching for her reaction. She was good. She did little more than arch another brow at him. "I inspire that kind of thing in all my minions," he continued. "So what's the favor?"

Olivia took a moment to explain about Rowan's will and the fact that Chase wanted nothing to do with the money.

House was intrigued. "So you and Rowan never had any children together?"

"Neither of us had the time or the interest in children," Olivia replied. "We were both devoted to our careers."

"Yeah, I got that from when he visisted." House moved to lean against the edge of Cuddy's desk. "Are you really all that surprised that Chase doesn't want the money? I mean, I know I'm surprised. Cause he really must be an idiot if he's giving up millions. But still, I can understand his lame way of thinking he doesn't want anything from the daddy that didn't love him."

Moving to stand before House, Olivia locked eyes with him, and determination glinted in her own. "I would be the first to admit that Rowan was a lousy father. He had no interest in babies and then Robert's mother had become...needy. All she had was Robert and she focused all of her attention on him when Rowan was too busy to pay attention to her. Then Robert showed no interest in medicine so Rowan washed his hands of him."

House had to interject at this point. "But Robert became a doctor." He didn't add that he was a damn good one. He didn't tell Chase that and he sure as hell wasn't going to say anything to the wicked step mom.

"After giving up on the church," Olivia allowed.

"He was going to become a priest?" House didn't bother to hide his surprise. He had always figured Chase had studied under nuns because he'd gone to a catholic school. Not that he'd gone to seminary school.

Olivia shrugged. "Apparently he felt the calling when he was younger. As for why he changed his mind, I have no clue. Nor did Rowan ever figure it out. But Chase called and asked if his father's offer to put him through med school was still good and Rowan said yes and I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

That wouldn't be hard at all. House scratched under his chin as he replied, "Little Robbie didnt' want to follow in daddy's footsteps so Daddy lost interest in him. Again."

"Pretty much." Olivia looked sad, then she shook herself and said, "I want you to convince Robert to take the money. He's earned it."

"I'll bet." House was all the more intrigued by his little Aussie underling. Enough so that he was tempted to agree to what Olivia was asking. But there was a sticking point. "Are you the one who called to tell him his father died?"

Olivia nodded. "Yes." She waited, sensing that House wasn't finished.

He wasn't. "Why didn't you call him sooner? Or write a letter? Why didn't you tell him his father was dying?"

"Why didn't you?" Olivia shot back, sounding angry.

"It wasn't my place to tell him," House countered. Then he waited for Olivia Chase's rebuttal.

It was slow in coming. She moved to sit in the chair closest to House, her head bowed. "I would have told him, only I didn't know Rowan hadn't told him until just before he died. He told me he was sorry about what he'd done to Robert and he asked me to tell his son he was sorry. If I had known...I would have told Robert."

House believed her. "Did you tell him what Rowan said?"

"I sent a letter explaining as best I could." Olivia stood up and straightened her jacket. "I have my doubts that Robert read it."

"I bet he read it then shredded it," House replied.

Olivia retrieved an official looking envelope from her purse. She held it out to House. "The money is in this account. The paper work is all there. All Robert has to do is sign it and send it in. Please convince him to do so." 

House accpeted the envelope, tucking it in his inside jacket pocket. "I'll see what I can do," he drawled. He watched Olivia Chase reach for her coat and shrug it on. "Leaving so soon?"

"No reason to stay," she replied. Moving to the door she turned back to say, "It was interesting meeting you, Dr. House."

"I'm sure it was," he replied. Then he watched her leave. A moment later he was heading out himself. In search of Chase.

OoO

It was the end of the day and all Chase wanted to do was go home. He had kept himself busy throughout so he wouldn't have to think about Olivia, which meant thinking about his father. Between their patient coding twice before House figured out what was wrong so they could fix things, and spending the hours after that spread between the ICU and the clinic, Chase was able to keep his mind fairly well occupied.

But now he was tired and a tired mind was harder to keep control of. Chase wished he had the nerve to ask House for another pill. He knew sleep would not come easy tonight, yet he knew he needed it. His body was so tired he nearly ached with it, and he felt soul tired as well. Olivia's visit had conjured up too many unwanted memories. Her presence had stirred up an emotional vortex and battling against it was exhausting.

Since Cameron and Foreman were long gone, Chase took his time gathering his things. He figured House was long gone too, so he was surprised when his boss came limping into the room. He was even more surprised when a letter-sized, cream colored envelope, landed on the table between them. "What's this?" Chase asked.

"Something your step mom asked me to give you," House replied. His blue eyes were bright as he leaned against the table and studied Chase. "She went back home, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't!" Chase snapped. The headache that had been irritating him just stepped up into full blown pain, throbbing in his temples. House had a way of doing that to a person. Inflicting all kinds of pain. But what was even worse is that now Chase would wonder just what he and Olivia had talked about. The only person they had in common was himself. Chase didn't want to go there.

So, of course, House did. "So daddy left you everything. I knew he was rich but...wow! He's really really rich."

Making it a point to ignore House, Chase shrugged off his lab coat and reached for his jacket. Although he wasn't surprised when House just continued on in spite of his silence.

"Take the money, Chase."

"Why?" Chase was surprised at himself for asking that. He had intended to tell House to mind his own business. Apparently his subconscious had prevented him from making such a ridiculous statement. More than anything, House loved to input himself where he didn't belong. And too often that meant nosing his way into Chase's personal life.

House shrugged. "Because it's money." His tone implied Duh very clearly.

But Chase wasn't about to back down on this one. "It's money that I don't want," he stated clearly. He moved around the table to grab his messenger bag, but found his way blocked by House's cane. He lifted his head to glare at his boss.

"Spite your father by taking the money," House countered, looking smug. "Because I'm betting he figured you wouldn't take it. So prove him wrong. Take it and spend it frivolously. That'll have him rolling in his grave."

"If I take the damn thing will you leave me alone?" Chase snapped, reaching for the envelope. He would go home and shred the damn thing. He didn't want to listen to House talk about his father. Chase hadn't thought his father could ever hurt him again. Not after walking out on him and his mum. But finding out he had died and that he hadn't considered Chase worthy of being told he was dying. Not being willing to even give Chase a chance to say goodbye to him. That had hurt more than anything that had come before. More than Chase would ever willingly admit too. He had done his best to bury that pain, but between Olivia's visit and House's persistant, the pain was rolling over him in waves. He could feel himself shaking as he gripped the envelope.

Only to have it snatched out of his grasp by House. Who opened it and removed the papers. "Sign it and I'll send it in for you," he said, offering Chase a pen.

He was too tired to argue anymore. Taking the pen, Chase scribbled his name where House pointed, then he deliberately set the pen down and turned to go. He was relieved when House let him leave. By the time he got in his car, Chase was shaking so hard he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from clacking together.

He was angry. Too angry to think straight. But he managed to calm himself enough to drive to the Fitness Center. Once there he headed straight for the locker room, undoing his combination and grabbing his swim trunks. He tried to swim at least twice a week but had lapsed a bit of late. Tonight he needed the physical activity. Without it he felt he might explode.

So Chase swam lap after lap until his muscle quivered and burned. Then he hauled himself out of the pool, took a quick shower, changed into the extra sweats he kept stashed in his locker, then he drove home. Dropping his things by the door, Chase headed for the kitchen. He hadn't eaten since lunch so he knew he needed to get something in him. He managed half a bologna sandwich before he gave up. He washed away the taste with a can of coke, then he poured himself a glass of red wine.

Making his way to the livingroom, Chase turned on the TV then dropped the remote. He found himself heading into his bedroom and opening his bedtable drawer. Inside was the letter Olivia had sent him after his father had died. A short and to the point letter telling him that Rowan was proud of him and that his father was sorry he hadn't been there for him. They were nothing but pretty lies but they had meant something to Robert. More than they should have but he had let himself believe in them. He had let himself take some comfort from them. But now they just burned inside him, making him angry, so he ripped the letter into tiny shreds of paper that he tossed in the kitchen trash can with the remains of his bologna sandwich.

He stood at the counter for a long time, until the roar in his ears faded away and the anger receded. Now he felt empty again. Empty and aching as he returned to the living room and reached for his wine. Raising the glass he made a toast to his father. "Cheers, dad. Even dead you're fucking me up." Bringing the glass to his lips, Chase downed the contents in a few gulps. Then he got up and went into the kitchen to refill his glass.

As he poured he thought about the money. About what he might do with it. Maybe he'd give it all to the local Catholic church. That would have pissed his father off for sure. But in truth Chase knew he wouldn't do anything with the money. He'd just leave it where it was and try to forget it existed.

Heading back to the couch, he sat down and held the refilled glass of wine in his hand as he watched TV. He didn't even care what program was on. He just watched hour after hour, until he fell asleep at 3am. He didn't feel the full glass tip out of his hand. He didn't see the carpet staining red.

**THE END...of part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 4**

Starting out his day with a headache and a wine stain on his carpet made Chase want to call in to work then crawl into bed after downing about six tylenol. But he hadn't called in once in all the time he'd worked for House and he wasn't going to start now. Not when that would just give House more fodder to taunt him with.

Grabbing the carpet stain remover from the kitchen cupboard, along with a sponge, Chase went to work on the stain. He sprayed it, went to grab some tylenol and down them with orange juice while the cleaner soaked in, then he cleaned up his small mess from the night before. By the time he returned to the stain, it looked like it was lifting. He scrubbed at it and twenty minutes later it was actually gone. Impressive stain remover. All the more so since he had ordered the stuff from an informercial a few months ago when he couldn't sleep. It contained some kind of oxidant and he supposed he'd gotten his money's worth. He also supposed it was a testiment to how tired he was that he was focused on the positive aspects of a stupid carpet cleaning product.

Putting the bottle back, he rinsed out the sponge, set it on the counter to dry then took a shower. Twenty minutes later he was dressed and checking his email. He had a few he should respond too, but he wasn't in the mood. Instead he logged off, grabbed his coat and bag and headed out.

On the way to work he stopped for coffee and a bagel. He sipped at the coffee, absorbing the caffeine rush from the double shot expresso latte, while half-heartedly nibbling at the bagel. When he got to work he dumped the half eaten bagel, but continued to relish his coffee, glad that he'd gotten the large. But for all the caffeine he was sucking into his system, he was still half dozing over a puzzle when Cameron came in.

"You look beat," she commented, as she breezed past him on her way to the counter.

"Morning to you too," Chase replied, unable to keep the grumpiness out of his voice.

Cameron stared at the empty coffee pot. "You didn't make coffee." She sounded so surprised that Chase actually chuckled.

Shifting in his chair to face her, he held up his styrofoam cup. "Already have some."

"First person in always makes the coffee," Cameron reminded him, even as she reached for a filter.

"My bad." It was the unspoken rule though. To be honest, he'd forgotten to do it. Not that he was going to admit to it. But it was a testiment to how tired he was. Which just made him feel more tired.

Tired enough that he was startled when Cameron sat down beside him. He hadn't noticed her until she was right there.

A frown on her face, Cameron studied Chase. "Are you sure you should be here? We get sick days, you know. Maybe you should use one."

"I'm fine." Standard reply for Cameron's standard, pain in the ass, curiosity.

"Okay." Surprisingly, Cameron dropped it. "So, have you thought about what movie you want to see saturday?"

Chase gave her a look that he was pretty sure conveyed how confused he was. "What movie?" He had absolutely no clue what she was talking about and it gave him a creepy, Twilight Zone, moment.

Huffing a little sigh, Cameron patiently explained it. As if he were a two year old. "This saturday is movie night, Chase. You, me and Foreman go to the movies once a month."

"Oh." Chase suddenly remembered that. He remembered too how Foreman had told him last week, while running one of their tests for a patient, that he was going to blow off movie night in the future. Chase figured he had the right idea. Cameron had only started movie night because she felt the three of them needed some bonding time outside of the hospital. He had agreed to it just to get her to shut up about it, and when the first saturday night came up he'd planned on making an excuse and not going, only he'd lost a bet to Foreman earlier in the day and the pay off was that he had to go. Foreman had gone simply for the amusement factor. That was six months ago. Movie night hadn't been a bad thing, but Chase didn't feel up to making inane conversation with Cameron tonight. Especially when he already knew it would be just the two of them.

"So...any thoughts as to what movie you want to see?" Cameron prompted. "It's your turn to pick."

Wincing, Chase turned away from her, heading over to the coffee pot. He brought his cup with him and topped it off, just for something to do. "Um...I don't think I'll be going this week," he told her, then he waited for the inevitable explosion. Cameron believed that movie night was a good thing and she wouldn't give up on it easily.

But before she could say a word, Foreman entered the room, followed closely by House.

Chase heaved a silent sigh of relief when he saw a folder in House's hand. They had a patient. His day was starting to look up. Hopefully Cameron would forget all about movie night and his life could go merrily on it's way without the extra stresses.

"Blind guy, sixty something, losing feeling in his extremities from the bottom up," House stated, tossing the file in Chase's direction.

"He's paralyzed from his upper thighs down," Chase read.

"As of this morning, he lost all feeling in his ass too," House interjected, moving over to the white board and snatching up a marker. "So...before we do all the doctory stuff, let's talk about lunch." He pinned his gaze on Chase. "You're buying, right?"

Chase resisted the urge to glare at House. To give the man the satisfaction of knowing his words pissed him off. He knew what House was doing. Flaunting his inheritance in his face. Not because he cared a whit that Chase had the money, he was doing it because he knew Chase wanted to keep it private. "How fast has the paralysis been progressing?" Chase countered having to reply to House by focusing on the case.

Which, thankfully, House accepted. Twenty minutes later they dispersed to run various tests. House sent Chase to get a history after Cameron drew blood for blood work. Foreman was heading straight out to the old man's home. With his permission, no less.

Because he wanted to give Cameron time to get the blood she needed, without running into her, Chase took a side trip to the nearest vending machines. He bought a candy bar for later, and a Mt. Dew for now. It was early for soda, but he was hoping it would give him the caffeine kick he needed.

Ten minutes later he entered Artie Mather's room. "Good morning, Mr. Mather's," he said in greeting. "I'm Dr. Chase. I need to ask a few questions." He announced himself before approaching, talking as he reached the bed so the man would know where he was without having to guess.

Sightless eyes locked in his direction. "Call me Artie," said the man. his tone pleasant and surprisingly up beat. "You're not from around these parts, are you?"

"Australia," Chase supplied, before Mather's could guess he was British.

"It's a beautiful country," Artie replied.

Chase was surprised by his comment. "So you've been there."

Artie nodded. "Years ago. How old are you, Dr. Chase?" he asked suddenly.

"Twenty-nine," Chase replied, deciding to go for the truth for once. He usually upped his age a few years, if asked.

"Last time I was in Melbourne was before you were born," Artie replied.

Chase felt a bit jolted by that tidbit, given that he was from Melbourne. But he needed to focus on the case at hand, not relieve forgotten memories. Not to mention painful ones. "How long have you been blind?" he asked. The information was in Mather's file, but Chase wanted to ask a few questions of his own to see if he'd get the same answers.

Artie sighed. "Since I was fifteen."

"Your file states that it was progressional and that you started losing vision at ten," Chase stated.

"That's right. Doctor's never did give my parents a reason for it." A shrug of slumped shoulders. "Guess it was just meant to be."

Chase made a note of that fact then asked, "Do you remember any head injuries before you started losing your sight? Maybe fell and hit your head?"

There was a moment of silence, then Artie shook his head. "Not that I recall. But you're talking over fifty years ago. I'm lucky I remember what I had for breakfast this morning." He cocked his head as if he could see Chase and was studying him. "Why all the questions about my vision? I'm here because I'm losing feeling in my body."

"I know." Chase spoke quietly. "But I've learned that something unexpected can give us a clue to help discover what's wrong."

"I see." Artie looked like he wanted to say more but he started coughing. One hand reached out towards the nightstand.

Chase realized Artie was trying to find his water cup. He guided the man's hand to it with a firm but gentle touch, rather than grab it for him.

Artie took a few sips, managed to catch his breath, then smiled at Chase. "You've worked with the blind." It was a statement, not a question.

"Sort of," Chase allowed, wondering if he wanted to share the story or not. He decided he might as well. Talking to the patients about his past gave him a type of release. He only did it when he was able to share something in common with them or when he was trying to set them at ease. He figured Artie deserved the truth. "I took a hit in the head during a football game when I was fifteen and I lost my sight for three weeks. Scared the hell out of me."

"You still remember what it was like." Again it was a statement, not a question.

Moving a bit closer to the bed, Chase rattled the bed rail just enough to let Artie know where he was before replying. "I don't think about it often," he confessed. "But when I do it seems very vivid. What I remember most was how sharp and clear and loud everything sounded."

A soft laughed filled the room and Artie looked pleased. "I swear I can hear a pin drop across the room in a bar on football monday during a game."

Chase chuckled at that, willing himself not to think about his own few days of darkness, and focused on getting the rest of the history.

He never knew he had an audience.

OoO

They all returned to the office after completing their assigned tasks. They worked over the results and symptoms and House sent them on their way again to do more tests. Chase was stunned when he checked on Artie and the paralysis was up to his waist. He put the man on oxygen since he was starting to wheeze. Whatever was causing this was moving too fast for them to even hope to catch up.

At one point Chase actually took time to fit in a bathroom break, only to find Cameron waiting for him when he stepped out. "Is it Mathers?" he asked, seeing the strange look on her face. A look he couldn't read because she was staring at him rather like he was a bug under a microscope.

"He's still getting worse," Cameron replied, but that's not why I'm here.

"You're here because you like to linger outside of men's rooms?" Chase prompted, stepping past her. He headed straight for the vending machine and bought another Mt. Dew. The candy bar from earlier was still in his pocket. He hadn't eaten anything yet today. None of them had the time to think about it.

Cameron was on his heels. "I heard what you said to Artie," she announced.

Which made Chase pause in opening the can to whirl around and stare at her. All the while trying to decipher her crytic statement. "Heard what?" And Chase heard the defensiveness in his voice. He was gearing up for some kind of attack, being prepared to strike back.

"About how you went blind for three weeks," Cameron replied.

"Oh. So?" Chase wasn't happy that she'd heard that since it wasn't meant for her ears, but he supposed it was harmless enough. So he let himself relax, opening the soda and taking a long swallow.

Cameron looked surprised by his reaction. She shrugged then said, "I'm just surprised, I guess. I didn't know that about you."

Gaping at her, Chase snorted then shook his head. "You don't know anything about me, Cameron." He might have said more but his pager went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and wasn't surprised by the message to head to Mather's room.

He didn't notice Cameron hot on his heels.

OoO

By dinner time, Artie was on a respirator.

Cameron was arguing with House that he needed to have an epiphany and have it now. Foreman was the one to tell her it was over. There was nothing more they could do.

Chase looked over at House as the man fiddled with his striped ball. Then blue eyes were gazing back and Chase saw the truth there. House couldn't win this one. Not really that much of a surprise. And not House's fault. Artie had waited too long to come in. This time they'd maybe get the answer from the autopsy. Maybe not. Sometimes you just couldn't win.

Slipping out of the office, Chase went to Artie's room. There were a couple of family members there. Artie's second wife, his son and daughter in law and a teenaged granddaughter. Chase checked the respirator, answered a few questions the wife had, then lingered in the background. He knew there wasn't much time left.

When Artie flatlined, Chase slipped into Intesivist mode but he knew he was just going through the motions. So he nodded at the nurse to disconnect the machine, then he called time of death. After a few words to the grieving family, Chase left.

He paged House to let him know what happened, then he went to the cafeteria. He felt hollow inside and figured it might help to eat something. But he only picked at the sandwich sitting in front of him. By the time House sat down across from him, Chase had a plate full of ripped bread and ham that was no longer recognizable.

"That looks disgusting," House announced.

"Want it?" Chase felt the need to snark back. He felt more comfortable doing that kind of thing when it was just him and House. When the others were around he felt too vulnerable. Like he was letting them in on something that was private. Not that there was any particular relationship between him and House, but sometimes Chase felt like their could be. He just wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or not.

House moved the plate off to the side. "You're batting zero this week," he stated. "First that kid now the blind guy."

Chase felt anger erupt abruptly and he glared at House. "Neither of those deaths were my fault!" he snapped.

"Good point." House said nothing more, just leaning back in his chair and studying Chase.

"Bugger," Chase mumbled as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He got what House was doing, clever bastard. Not that it was going to work. Chase knew it wasn't his fault that Mather's died, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. He blamed the guilt thing on the nuns.

"So how long have you had insomnia?" House asked, neatly changing the subject, although the focus still remained on Chase.

Heaving a sigh, Chase whispered, "Don't have it."

House thumped his cane on the floor. Two loud bangs until Chase's head lifted and he was looking at him. "When was the last time you slept more than two hours a night?" he said, reprhasing.

"I'm going home." Chase wasn't about to play this game with House. He knew it would only lead to him suffering in some way. But when he reached for the plate with the intent of dumping it on the way out, fingers gripped his wrist.

"Take this." A bottle appeared on the table and Chase could guess it held the same pill as the last time. House locked eyes with him. "If you don't get more than two three hours after the weekend passes, you have an apointment for a full work up."

Chase pulled his arm free, not taking the plate or the bottle. "I'll handle it myself," he replied. Because that's what he always did.

House pushed the bottle at him. "My way or the highway, buckaroo," he countered. Then he was on his feet and limping away.

The bottle had tipped over and was rolling towards the table edge. Chase caught it before it rolled off and stuffed it in his pocket. He would take the pill and he would sleep and he would tell House what he wanted to hear so House would leave him alone. Maybe this time it would even be the truth.

Grabbing his plate, Chase dumped it in the corner bin then signed out.

But instead of going straight home he stopped at an all night mini market for gas, a six pack of beer that he knew he wouldn't drink, and a crappy pizza. Then he went home, took a shower, pretended to eat the pizza and took one sip of the beer. He didn't take the pill, but managed to fall asleep on the couch.

When he got up and went to work four hours later, the bottle with the pill was in the trash can, along with the pizza and the beer.

**THE END...of part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 5**

Chase was just shrugging on his jacket when Foreman entered the conference room. From the look on his face, Chase could tell he wanted something. But he didn't initiate any conversation. If Foreman wanted a favor, he could ask for it.

Right on cue, Foreman blurted out, "Can you cover for me tonight? I've got plans."

"Can't." Chase grinned as he said it, seeing the look of disappointment on Foreman's face.

But the other man wasn't going to give up easy. "Come on, Chase. I'll owe you a couple then. I'll even cover one shift of clinic hours for you."

Still grinning, Chase shook his head. "Sorry. I have plans."

"What type of plans?" Foreman countered, not looking convinced.

"A date." Chase reached for his messenger bag but stopped when he heard a feminine voice call his name. He turned and smiled at the auburn haired woman who was standing in the door way. Moving to her side he he said softly, "Hello, Danielle. I'm just about ready." Then he accepted the fingers that carded in his hair, and the hand that landed on his butt as she kissed him. It was a sexy kiss and Chase simply let himself enjoy it. The added benefit was the look on Foreman's face when they broke apart. The man looked stunned.

Danielle didn't seem to notice. "Shall I wait for you in the lobby then?"

Chase nodded. "Sounds good. I'll just be a few minutes." He kissed her again then watched her walk away before turning to face Foreman. He couldn't wait to hear what the other man had to say about what just happened.

"That's Dr. Gardiner from ICU," Foreman stated, as if Chase wouldn't know that.

"Head of ICU," Chase reminded him.

Foreman blinked hard. "She's House's age."

Chase shrugged at that. "So? She doesn't look it. She could pass for thirty-five easy."

"Which is still older than you," Foreman pointed out.

"Not by all that much," Chase replied. He grabbed his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder. Then he patted Foreman on the back. "Sorry about tonight. Why don't you go ask Cameron to cover for you." With that Chase slipped out the door and headed for the elevator.

He knew that Foreman would tell everyone about his date with Dr. Gardiner and he didn't care. She had asked him out this morning and something had made Chase say yes. Hell. It was friday night and he knew he was going to get laid. Dr. Gardiner had been flirting with him for a while now and Chase really didn't see any reason to turn her down. She had a relationship record similar to Wilson's. Three failed marriages with no interest in having a long-term committment with someone any time soon. She had explained to Chase, after asking him out tonight, that all she wanted was someone to have fun with and great sex. He was up for both those things. That she didn't expect anything more from him was a relief. And going out with her had the extra benefit of getting him out of movie night without having to make up some excuse for Cameron.

He was tired of feeling lonely. He could date pretty much any nurse in the hospital, and had dated a few, but they were always looking for committment. He wanted to have some fun, maybe get some good sex out of it and be able to walk away without feeling guilty. Which was exactly what Danielle was offering. So tonight he'd made up his mind to go out and have fun, with the niggling hope in the back of his mind that maybe he'd sleep better in someone elses bed.

So when he reached the lobby he greeted Danielle with a kiss and a smile. And as it turned out, he did sleep better in her bed. Maybe because she kept the busy all weekend, with them wearing themselves out with sex at night. Sunday night she told him she was going away to visit relatives in England for two weeks but she would call him when she got back.

Chase fell asleep not caring if she did call or not. For now he was content. He'd had some fun, gotten some great sex out of it and managed to sleep. Monday at work was going to be good for once. House would be off his back about sleeping and he was feeling with it enough to be able to deflect any gossip thrown at him.

But things didn't always turn out the way he planned them.

He started monday out by deflecting questions from Cameron about Danielle. At least they didn't last long because he'd gotten in late, having over slept, and House was in his office when Chase arrived but soon came limping out to greet him.

"So, is sex better with older women?" House queried.

"I don't kiss and tell," Chase promptly replied.

House snorted. "Did she tuck you into bed and night and tell you a bedtime story?"

Chase merely smiled and asked, "Do we have a case or not?"

"Not." House looked disappointed. If it was by the lack of Chase's reaction or lack of a case, it was hard to tell. "Our previous patient is going home soon and we don't have anything of interest at the moment." He turned to Cameron. "Go scour my email for something."

"You want me to go poison someone or something?" Foreman inquired, before House could come up with something.

House narrowed his gaze at him then shrugged. "Well..if you can't think of anything more original then, sure." He then focused his attention on Chase. "You go do my clinic hours."

Chase knew House was expecting an argument, which he refused to give him. Instead he got up and headed out the door without saying a word. A few hours in the clinic would feel like a vacation right now.

A rather boring vacation, Chase soon realized. Busy, but repetetive. After two hours and no call from House, he was ready to take a break. He sent his patient out and took a few minutes to write up some notes on their file, then he was ready to see maybe one more before definitely grabbing a coffee, when he heard a scream.

Running for the door, Chase pulled it open then froze when he saw who had screamed. One of the nurses. Marie. She was crying now because a big guy, built like a Pro Wrestler, was waving a gun in her face.

Chase's first thought was that someone needed to call security. But he had the thought even as he edged out of the room and found himself striding over to the confrontation. Eyes on the gun waver's face, Chase could see he was pale, shaky and that he looked strung out. No surprise then when he started screaming at the nurse for drugs. He was just about to grab her by the arm when Chase intervened, cursing himself out even as he did so.

"She can't get you drugs!" he announced, drawing the druggie's attention onto himself. Stupid move and he'd wonder later what made him play hero, but for now he needed to focus. If he could distract the guy long enough, Chase was certain security would show up and handle this. He just didn't want anyone getting shot. He didn't want to see someone else laid out on the floor by a bullet. Watching House get shot in front of him was an image that still haunted Chase to this day. It was one thing dealing with the aftermath of a gunshot wound, but having a front row seat to the event was another. An event he didn't care to repeat. Ever.

"She works here!" Snarled the druggie, his bloodshot eyes now firmly focused on Chase.

It was a good argument, Chase realized, but he had a come back. "She's just a nurse. She doesn't have the authority to get the drugs."

That gave Mr. Drughead pause. For about one second. "Who can get them?" As he asked, he waved his gun around, arousing a few terrified screams from the patients and nurses who were scattered about.

"I can get them," Chase said quietly. "But I need you to put your gun down." He winced at his words, feeling like an actor out of some bad TV show. No doubt something House would watch like the O.C..Truth be told, everything felt a bit surreal at the moment. But he could live with that if the guy would put the damn gun down.

"Get me the drugs and you can have the gun," Mr. Druggie countered. For a big man - and big translated into massive -, Mr. Druggie could move surprisingly fast. 

Before Chase could blink, he found himself staring down the barrell of a gun. Then a beefy hand gripped his arm, steel fingers squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. "OKay...I'll get the drugs," Chase said, because it wasn't like he had a choice. But he did have a plan. Sort of. He nodded towards the exam room he'd just come out of. "In there," he said.

Big guy pushed Chase into the room. "Where?" he demanded, eyes wild and his grip tightening.

"Over there, in the cabinet," Chase said, pointing. Then he found himself shoved over to the cabinet, hitting the counter hard and gasping a bit at the pain. But he didn't let that stop him from opening the small drawer in front of him. There were syringes in it filled with sedatives. Chase grabbed one he knew was fast acting and popped the top off it.

"Get them now!" Mr. Druggie roared. Then he was on Chase, yanking him around and pointing the gun at him.

Fear rushed through Chase like a wave, but he was used to working through adrenaline rushes. He could keep his focus. "Shoot me and you don't get your drugs," he warned.

That threat made big guy lower his gun. But he shook Chase for good measure. "GET THEM NOW OR I START SHOOTING PEOPLE!" He was practically frothing at the mouth, his spittle flying as he screamed at Chase.

The moment the gun was lowered to the side, Chase made his move. He stabbed the needle into big guy's thigh, pressing the plunger in a smooth motion, then backing away. Or, at least, trying to back away.

Big guy gripped him with one hand, dropping the gun in reaction to being stabbed so he could rip the syringe out of his leg. "Stupid..." he slurred, because he was fading fast. But he held on long enough to get a two fisted grip on Chase and fling him across the room.

For a moment Chase felt like he was flying. Right up until he impacted with the counter and cabinets above it. His ribs hit the counter and his head hit the cabinet. Twin explosions of pain right before he dropped on the floor. That landing brought it's own pain, but Chase clung to consciousness. He rolled onto his hands and knees and made it over to the gun. It was several feet away from big guy, who had crashed into the exam table then dropped like a load of bricks to the floor. But Chase wasn't taking any chances. He grabbed the gun, clicked on the safety then pulled the clip. Just like his friend John's dad had taught him to do that summer he'd been allowed to visit. Chase laughed at the thought that a weekend learning how to shoot guns when he was fourteen, would come in handy now.

Shaking off the random thought, he started to push up to his feet. Only to find a security guard looming in the door way. Relief washed over Chase, leaving him feeling a bit giddy. "Here," he said, holding out the gun. Once the guard took it, Chase jerked a thumb at the big guy. "Knocked him out. Cuffs would be good though. It won't last long."

Then suddenly the room was filled with people. Security mostly, and Chase pushed himself into the corner to get out of their way. Then he realized someone was calling his name and he blinked hard and brought Cuddy's face into focus. She was saying something he couldn't quite make out. But when her hand touched his face in a soothing gesture, he figured it would be okay to close his eyes now.

Chase let the darkness take him away.

OoO

House was listening to his Ipod when Wilson burst into his office. "Very nice dramatic entrance," he stated. "Auditioning for CSI:Miami?"

Wilson didn't take the bait. "There was an incident in the clinic. A drug addict with a gun."

"Chase!" House put it together instantly. He was out of his chair and reaching for cane and nearly out the door before he thought to ask, "Is he okay?"

"He brought the guy down," Wilson said, with admiration plainly coloring his tone.

House thumped his cane. "I'll give him a medal later! Is he okay?" He asked because visions of his own shooting were now dancing in his head. Visions he couldn't quite make vanish into thin air, no matter how hard he tried.

Wilson grimaced. "He didn't get shot, but he did get thrown into the counter. Possible concussion and bruised ribs. Cuddy is examining him right now. She's the one who called me."

"Why didn't she call me?" House didn't really expect an answer from Wilson, but he damn sure was going to get one from Cuddy later.

A few minutes later he was in exam room 3. He studied Chase, who was arguing with Cuddy about staying overnight for observation.

Cuddy was trying to reason with him. "Chase, you have a concussion. I think it's best if you stay."

"Stay or you're fired," House interjected. He shouldered by Cuddy, grabbing the chart out of her hands. Chase's chart. He skimmed it and felt himself relaxed. A concussion and bruised ribs and the like were painful, but not life threatening in any way. That was all that mattered.

"Stop threatening me with that!" Chase shot back, then he winced and pressed a hand to his forehead. Shouting with a concussion wasn't smart.

House narrowed his gaze at him. "It works, doesn't it?" He didn't need to ask. He knew Chase would stay. He looked wiped out and ready to collapse. But that didn't mean House was going to let him off the hook. "You get two days off."

Cuddy glared at House. "I'm giving him the week off," she stated firmly.

"I'll be back in two days," Chase interjected, not looking at either her or House as he spoke.

"You can take the time," Cuddy protested, moving closer to Chase as if she felt she would be able to shield him from House somehow.

House was amused by her, and impressed by Chase. "See you in two days," he said, then he turned and left the room. He kept walking till he stepped into the elevator. When the doors closed he sagged against the wall. He was too damn old for this shit. Just too damn old.

OoO

Chase agreed to stay, knowing that House would follow through on his threat to fire him, if only because he could. But he was steadfast against wearing a gown and charmed a nurse into bringing him scrubs to change into. Then he let himself be settled into a bed on the second floor, curling up onto his good side and drifting off to sleep.

When he got woke up for a two hour check, he discovered a basket of flowers on the side table and a stuffed koala bear sitting at the end of the bed. It was staring at him. He made a face at it, smoothing his expression to neutral when he heard the clack of heels approaching. He wasn't the least bit surprised to see Cuddy enter the room.

"Do you like the flowers?" she asked. "They're from me."

"You didn't have to do that," Chase told her. In fact, he wished she hadn't. It wasn't like he was sick or anything. His being there was nothing more than a stupid formality.

Cuddy shrugged. "I wanted too. And I want to take you out to dinner when you're feeling better."

That surprised Chase more than the flowers did. "Why?"

"To thank you for what you did." Cuddy responded with as much surprise as his own. "That man could have hurt people, Chase. He could have killed someone. You saved lives with your actions. I'm grateful for that."

"You don't have to buy me dinner," Chase insisted. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want her gratitude or her gestures. He just wanted to pretend that today hadn't happened. Although a part of him knew that her gratitude stemmed from the fact that he had saved her alot of paperwork and grief over her precious hospital. So, ultimately, it would be easier to just accept what she offered.

Moving closer, Cuddy shook her head at him. "We'll talk about that later. How do you feel?"

Chase considered the question. Everything ached and his head was throbbing, but he figured it could be worse so he settled on a neutral response. "I'm fine. Just tired." He hoped the latter comment would get her out of the room. And maybe she'd take the koala bear with her.

She caught him staring at it. "It's from Marie, the nurse you saved. I sent her home because she was pretty shaken up, but she wanted to give you something to show her appreciation." Cuddy reached for the Koala and stroked it's fur. "She thought it would remind you of home and offer some comfort to you."

There really wasn't anything he could say to that. He supposed Marie meant well, but most of his memories of home weren't the greatest and none of them really offered any comfort to speak of. But he didn't say that to Cuddy. He just accepted the Koala when she held it out to him, stuffing it down against the side rail.

"I'll let you get some rest," Cuddy said softly. Then she drifted out of the room.

Which allowed Chase to sleep for about twenty minutes before he had another visitor. Foreman. Which was something of a surprise. Chase sensed a presence and opened his eyes to see Foreman scanning his chart. He shifted up against the pillows, wincing a bit as his bruises made themselves felt. His head ache was better though, for which he was grateful. Then he realized he had an IV, which came as a surprise. He was staring at it, trying to figure out what he'd been given, when Foreman cleared his throat, garnering Chase's attention.

"You're a bit dehydrated," the Neurologist said, catching on to what Chase had been doing. "House ordered the IV and mild pain meds. The IV will be gone by tonight."

"Okay." Chase felt a bit muddled, but then it hit him. "Does House think he's my doctor?"

Foreman grinned. "Yep."

Chase wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he didn't want to think about it so he let it slide. "Do we have a case yet?" he queried.

"No, not yet." Foreman returned Chase's chart to the end of the bed and moved to stand beside him. "So you can chill and feel better."

"I'm fine." It was an almost defensive reply, but made rather ineffective by the giant yawn Chase couldn't quite stifle.

Foreman was still smiling at him. "Get some sleep, man. I'll talk to you later." With that he left.

Chase settled himself more comfortably, thinking how weird it was to be on this side of things. He much preferred doctor to patient, but the line blurred a bit as he drifted off to sleep.

OoO

He was allowed to sleep for four hours before another wake up check. This time from Cameron. She checked his vitals while asking him a few questions, then she went about removing his IV. Chase was glad to see it go. Not that he'd even noticed having it while he was sleeping, but it made him feel too much like he was sick or something. All he really was right now was tired.

"You look better," Cameron said, once she had smoothed a bandaid over the back of his hand.

"Better than what?" Chase found he couldn't resist teasing her a bit. Her eyes were dark with concern and he didn't much like it directed at himself.

But Cameron wasn't going to play his game. "We were worried about you. You could have been shot." She faltered after saying that, hands waving around until she stuffed them in her lab coat pockets.

He knew she was thinking about House. He had thought about that too. The image of House getting shot and being helpless to do anything was something that freqented Chase's dreams. It was after the shooting that he'd started having trouble sleeping. Because he couldn't control his dreams. "I'll be back to work day after tomorrow," Chase said quietly. "This is nothing. I've been hurt worse in football matches. Hell, I even knocked myself out once while surfing. Got wiped out and the damn board nailed me a good one when it popped back up." Chase found himself rubbing the side of his head at the memory. The side that wasn't presently tender.

"You surf?" Cameron looked astonished, and not in a flattering way.

"I used to," Chase allowed. "Not much surfing to be found in New Jersey." The sudden memory of white beaches and wild waves washed over him, leaving Chase feeling a bit hollow inside. Guess there were a few good things to miss about Australia. He didn't think of it as home anymore, but there were some things that made him wish he was there again.

Cameron grinned suddenly. "Well...you are blond." She said it like it meant something.

Chase followed her line of reasoning. "And I'm totally awesome, dude," he said, in a well-honed Keanu Reeves imitation. Cameron's reaction to that was priceless.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but her pager went off.

"House?" Chase guessed.

"Yeah." She grimaced then stuffed the pager back in her pocket. "I'll stop by later." She reached out to squeeze his shoulder, then she was gone.

Chase sighed and closed his eyes, wishing he was back at his apartment where he could be left alone. Curling up on his side he found himself staring at the stupid koala. Someone had moved it to the side table in his direct line of view. He made a face at it then laughed at himself. Which made his head ache and his bruised ribs protest. Chase curled up against the pain and fell silent. He didn't know how long he stared at the stupid toy before drifting back to sleep.

OoO

Wilson popping in to see him was a surprise to Chase. "What time is it?" he asked the Oncologist. Only just now realizing he didn't have a watch on.

"Late," Wilson replied. "I'm heading home but I wanted to check in on you."

"Uh..thanks. I'm fine." Chase sat up slowly, pushed the covers aside and made to slide out of bed. Till Wilson blocked him. "Have to use the bathroom," Chase stated. He figured that would make Wilson move, but instead he found a strong hand gripping his arm and helping him to stand. Which Chase ended up being grateful for when his knees buckled a bit.

Wilson supported him. "Head rush?"

Chase couldn't answer for a moment, then he gave a careful nod. His head was aching again. "Yeah, a bit. I'm good now, thanks." He felt Wilson release him then he made his way into the bathroom. He relieved himself, washed his hands, then avoided looking at himself in the mirror. Surprisingly Wilson was still there when he headed back to his bed. But Chase didn't climb back in. He was feeling stiff so he wanted to move around a bit. "I thought you were leaving?"

"In a minute." Wilson watched him move around the room.

Chase didn't know what to say to him. He was about to ask about the weather, just to break the silence, when approaching footsteps drew his attention to the doorway. Danielle was standing there with a smile and a pizza box. He had forgotten all about their date.

She walked in, dropped the box on the tray table, then moved to Chase and studied him. "Are you all right? I checked on you earlier but you were sleeping and I didn't want to disturb you."

"I'm fine." Chase meant it this time. "Sorry about dinner."

"It's okay." She pointed to the pizza box. "One of the nurses asked me to deliver it to you. We could share if you don't mind the company?"

Chase was fine with that. She didn't know him very well so she wouldn't ask questions he couldn't, or wouldn't, answer. "I'd like that," he told her. "But who sent the pizza?"

Wilson answered that question, grabbing a slip of white paper that was taped to the box. "House." He lifted the lid. "Cheese and mushroom."

That was Chase's favorite, but he didn't betray his surprise. But he couldn't help but wonder why House would do that.

"Enjoy your dinner," Wilson said, a smile plastered on his face. "See you tomorrow." He waved and walked out.

Chase knew House would be hearing about Danielle, because he had no doubt that Wilson was heading straight over to his bosses apartment. He didn't care. He could handle teasing about Danielle.

Who was watching him carefully. "Why don't you get back in bed, Robert. Then we can eat. You must be starving."

He was a bit hungry. "Sure." Moving a bit stiffly, he climbed back into bed and was about to reach for the covers when Danielle was there, drawing them over him then smoothing them out. He was about to thank her when she kissed him. Just a soft kiss filled with promise.

"When I get back from London, we'll go out to a proper dinner," Danielle whispered.

"It's a date," Chase replied, because he couldn't miss the sultry promise in her voice and he knew that she wanted the same thing he did. Companionship and sex. No strings, no complications. She was just what he needed right now. At least he hoped she was.

So they ate pizza and he listened to her stories about her trip to Africa three years ago, sharing a few world travel stories of his own before drifting off to sleep.

Chase didn't hear Danielle leave, nor did he see Cameron pop her head in on her way out.

And for once he slept without dreaming.

OoO

House ignored Wilson's chatter about his day. Up until the point where he mentioned Chase.

"Chase is an idiot!" House interjected, waving a slice of pizza at Wilson. Pepperoni pizza, not stupid mushroom pizza. Chase didn't know what was good for him.

"He did a brave thing today and saved alot of lives," Wilson countered, setting his own pizza aside. "How is that being an idiot?"

House snorted. ""He could have died." Which was something House could relate too, having almost died twice himself.

Wilson narrowed his gaze at his friend. "But he didn't die. Neither did you."

"Cuddy needs better security at the hospital," House countered. "After I got shot you'd think she'd find a way to make sure people with guns couldn't get in again."

"Good point," Wilson allowed.

House could tell Wilson wanted to talk about this so he grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the Law and Order repeat. He liked to mock the episodes. But tonight his heart wasn't in it. He couldn't get the image of Chase, curled up in the hospital bed and looking somehow small and fragile, out of his mind.

**THE END...of part 5**


	6. Chapter 6

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 6**

Chase healed over the course of the next two weeks. He had a few rough nights once he was released from the hospital. Pain was an issue at first, but then he felt back into his pattern of not being able to sleep well. He did sleep a bit better once Danielle got back from England. Because of their schedules they couldn't hook up as often as they might have liked too, but at least two nights a week found Chase at her place. He slept better in her bed after sex.

Cameron hounded Chase for details about Danielle, which he didn't give her. Foreman still seemed amused, or maybe bemused, by their relationship. House, surprisingly, didn't tease him about it. He made one comment about them using each other for sex, which Chase didn't deny, then he let it drop.

To Chase's relief, this thing with Danielle did remain about nothing more but sex and companionship. When she told him she was attending a dinner event with a male collegue from her department, Chase didn't even blink. He had no problems with that, or if she slept with him even. In that once sense, his life was going well. If he could get back to a semi-normal sleeping pattern, it would be better.

But it didn't seem to be in the cards for his life to get better.

During the course of a differential diagnosis, Cuddy entered the conference room. She looked subdued. To the point where even House's snark toned down a bit.

"We're being good, mom," he drawled at her, sarcastically.

"I have some news," Cuddy announced, her glance sweeping the group at large. "Do you remember Andi?"

Cameron looked like she resisted the urge to raise her hand before answering. "The little girl with cancer. Of course we remember her," she replied for all of them.

Cuddy nodded. "She died at four am this morning, at home and surrounded by family and friends."

"That's too bad," Foreman said, his focus then going back to the file in front of them.

"We should send a card or flowers," Cameron piped up.

"Already took care of that," Cuddy replied.

House got up and moved to the whiteboard, writing something down. He didn't make a comment.

Chase studied the others, feeling like he needed to gauge his own reaction. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about this. Andi had been a sweet little girl and he knew that his kissing her had meant more to her than it ever could to him. For himself, Chase felt a lingering sense of guilt. Never shame because he knew the kiss had been totally innocent on his part, but he felt as if he had failed her somehow. Even on that level. He was anything but Prince Charming, and Andi should have had that in her life.

"Dr. Chase?"

It took him a moment to realize Cuddy was calling his name. He shook his head as if it would help clear his thoughts, then looked at her. "Yes?"

Cuddy studied him a moment, looking uncertain about something, then she was gesturing. "Could you come to my office for a moment?"

He didn't get a chance to reply.

House interjected. "He's busy right now. Working. He'll stop by for his booty call later."

"Dr. Chase." Cuddy was adamant, her tone firm as she glared at House.

So he got up and followed her down to the elevator. They didn't speak as they rode them down. Then they were in her office and Chase had to fight the urge to fidget. He felt as if he'd been called to the principal's office or something, only he couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong. At least, not lately.

Cuddy moved to her desk, shooting a glance at him over her shoulder. "Have a seat," she invited.

"I'll stand," Chase replied. Sitting made him feel too vulnerable. Besides which, while standing it was easier to bolt. Right now he felt like turning tail and running, and he didn't even know why.

"This is for you," Cuddy said, holding out a white envelope as she moved to his side. "It's a letter from Andi. Her mother dropped it off a week ago and she asked that I give it to you after Andi passed away."

Chase stared at the envelope, not touching it. He didn't want it. "What is it?" he asked.

Cuddy shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't read it. It's for you, not me."

He could see his name, printed in big letters. A young girl's handwriting. "Of course." Hesitantly, he reached out and took it, almost afraid it might burn him or something. Which was ridiculous, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

"You can use my office to read it," Cuddy offered. "I have a meeting to attend." And with that she slipped by Chase and was gone.

He heard her close the door and he wanted to go as well. He didn't want the letter. He started to stuff it in his pocket, but then he pulled it out and smoothed the crinkles. It was a just a letter from a dead little girl. It couldn't hurt him.

Moving to sit on the arm of the couch against the wall, Chase tore open the envelope. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and saw that there were two photos inside it. Two 4 x 6 snapshots of Andi. One was of her standing in front of a butterfly display, smiling. The other a picture of her at Disney World, standing with a character who looked like a story book prince. She looked thinner than he remembered, but still happy. She knew how to live her life, as brief as it had been. Chase envied her that.

Tucking the photos back in the envelope, he studied the letter. It was short and to the point.

_Dear, Dr. Chase,_

_Thanks for everthing. Butterflies and my first...and only...kiss._

_Don't forget me._

_Love, Andi._

Refolding the letter, Chase realized his hand was shaking a bit. He stuffed it into the envelope and folded it carefully then put it in his lab coat pocket. He didn't want to think about Andi being buried in the cold ground. He didn't want to think about her life over. So he would go back to his job and focus on the living. He didn't want to grieve for the dead.

OoO

It was late when Chase was able to pull on his coat and grab his bag to go home. He dreaded going there. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, so he was thinking about going to see a movie.

Turning, he froze to see House standing there, watching him. He hadn't heard his boss enter the room and he had no idea how long he'd been watching him. "Did you want something?" Chase asked, his tone more clipped than it needed to be. But he felt wound up and angry for reasons he couldn't explain.

"Cuddy told me there's going to be a service for Andi at St. Anthony's church at ten am tomorrow," House replied.

"So?" But even as he asked, Chase knew why House was telling him that. He also knew that he would be there and that he would hate every minute of it.

House shrugged in reply, limping closer, one hand digging into his blazer pocket. He set a pill bottle on the table in front of Chase.

He didn't need to look inside to know what it contained. Sleeping pills. Chase didn't look at House as he scooped up the bottle and tucked it in his pocket. He was too grateful and felt far too needy to reveal himself to House. Nor did he want to see even a sliver of disappointment in the other man's eyes. So he did nothing more than slip past House on his way to the door.

As he stepped into the Elevator, Chase felt weak with relief that House had let him go. He leaned against the wall as the elevator descended, one hand in his pocket, clutching the pills. They brought him more comfort than prayer ever could.

OoO

The service was typical. Chase had been to more of them than he cared to remember. He didn't know a single person there. He was actually surprised that Cameron hadn't come, or maybe not. None of them were big on follow up with their patients. Once they were either cured or died, it was better to let them go. He hoped that being here would allow him to let go of Andi. She hadn't haunted him once he had let himself stop feeling guilty about the kiss. But last night, even in drugged slumber, she had haunted his dreams.

Whispering along with the prayers of the service, Chase was intensely aware of the acrid scent of burning candles, and the sound of soft weeping echoing around him. He found himself whispering a prayer for his father, wondering if God would accept it as a fitting goodbye to the man. Chase hadn't gone home after his father's death. He hadn't found out in time to be there for the funeral or any of the services before it. Not that he had wanted to go. He had closed the door on his father a long time ago, and his father had pretty much closed the door between them since the day Chase had been born.

But he didn't want to think about that now. He wanted the dead to stay buried.

When the service ended, Chase sat where he was for a time. He was in the last pew, off in the corner, watching people hug or whisper to each other, or stream out the doors. He needed a moment to compose himself before heading back to work. He didn't want Cameron to see anything but neutrality on his face, because he knew she would be the one looking for it. But he could feel grief brushing against his skin, weighing him down. He wished he could simply shake it off him, but it was never that easy.

"Dr. Chase?"

He jolted in his seat, even though the voice calling his name was whisper soft. Looking up, he recognized Andi's mother. He stood up and cleared his throat, ready to offer his condolences.

She didn't give him a chance. She was in his space, hugging him tight, her face pressed to his neck for a long moment. He managed to pat her on the back, awkwardly, wildly trying to figure out how to break apart when she was moving away from him. Panic fluttered inside him still, but he didn't let it show. He managed a mangled smile.

"Sorry for your loss," he whispered.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice husky with unshed tears. "And thank you for coming. I was hoping you would. I wanted to thank you for everything you did for Andi. That money you gave us so I could take her to Disney World...it was so generous of you. I wish there was something more I could do than just stupid words."

Chase stared at her in disbelief. She wasn't supposed to know he was the one who donated the money for the trip. "How...how did you?" He couldn't finish asking.

She looked almost guilty. "It was Father Jarrett who told me. He felt you would forgive him for telling me the truth. I was reluctant to accept the gift without knowing who it came from. When he told me it was from you...well...I just felt better knowing."

"I see," Chase replied, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He supposed it didn't really matter that she knew. And he supposed, he wasn't all that surprised that Father Jarrett had told her. Everybody lies anyway. Even priests. Chase had learned that lesson at Seminary. "I have to go back to work," he said, feeling a bit panicked again. She was staring at him with such gratitude and sadness in her eyes that Chase felt overwhelmed by it. He didn't know how to comfort her. Nor did he want too. It wasn't his place.

"Wait...just one more thing," she pleaded.

So he nodded, because he could give her that without it costing too much.

She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief that was wadded in her hand, then she blurted out," Andi told me about the kiss."

A sledge hammer to his gut would have winded Chase less. He didn't know how to respond to that, and he wasn't sure he could suck in enough air to say it anyway. He had to force himself not to push past her and run out the door. Instead he shook his head.

She touched his arm. "Every girl dreams about a kiss from Prince Charming, Dr. Chase. You gave her that and it was a beautiful memory that she cherished till the day she died."

"It was a stupid thing for me to do," he protested, surprising himself for admitting that to her.

"It was a sweet thing to give a dying girl," she replied. "Andi wasn't like other ten year olds. She was a wise and old soul and she took care of me as much as I took care of her. She knew what she was asking and you cared enough to give it to her. She told me how uncomfortable you were about it. That bothered her a bit. I think it was guilt that made her tell me about it in the first place. But she didn't have any regrets and neither do I. And neither should you."

She might have said more but something touched her shoulder and she turned and fell into their arms.

Chase was glad for the chance to escape. He made it to his car and sat there for a long time, relieving the kiss and remembering the way Andi had looked. So young and fragile and vulnerable as she lay there on the table. He had wondered about his reason for kissing her for a long time, finally just telling himself to let it go. Now maybe he could do that.

Maybe he could let go of his disappointment in his father too.

Maybe donkey's could fly.

Laughter bubbled out of Chase, but he swallowed it down as he started the engine and drove to work. When he entered the diagnostics office he found Foreman sitting at the table, reading a file.

"Patient?" Chase asked, as he moved to the coffee machine. He felt like he needed about a gallon of the stuff.

"Eight year old boy with chest pains and an unexplained rash on his groin," Foreman replied.

Chase nodded, feeling grateful that they had something to do. "Where's Cameron?" he asked, as he brought his mug to the table.

Foreman pushed the file to him. "Getting a better history. How was the service?"

"Sad," Chase replied, because it was the truth and because he knew Foreman would accept it and move on. He started reading the file when his beeper went off.

Clinic Hours.

Chase knew it was House. He got up and dumped his coffee in the sink then headed for the clinic. Happy to be where he wouldn't have time to feel.

OoO

It was after eleven when he got home. He dumped his bag, shrugged off his coat and headed into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of scotch then set it down on the counter and walked away. He didn't like scotch anyway.

Stripping off his clothes, he climbed into the shower, pretending that the wetness on his face wasn't tears.

**THE END...of part 6**


	7. Chapter 7

**SO YOU HAD A BAD DAY...part 7**

Chase wanted the day to be over. Three weeks had passed since Andi's passing. Three weeks during which House had treated him differently. Or maybe that was just his own perception of things. House wasn't one to back away from anyone or anything, but it felt to Chase like his boss was avoiding him. Which was making him paranoid as hell and he really hated that feeling. A part of Chase was beginning to expect that House had something planned. That he was going to dump something on him or ridicule him in some new and horrifying way, guaranteed to humiliate him to the extreme. He didn't have the energy to deal with anything like that. Not now. He was too tired and feeling too raw. At least it wasn't tired in the way it had been. As of two weeks ago, he'd managed to fall back into his normal sleep patterns, so goodbye insomnia.

He only wished he knew what had changed to allow him to sleep now, but he figured maybe it was best to just go with the flow and accept that he was sleeping again.

As he reached for his coat his cell phone rang. "Chase," he answered.

"Hello, Robert, it's me," Danielle replied. "Bad news. I'm not going to be able to make dinner tonight. Patient emergency."

"No problem," Chase assured her. This was something they were both familiar with and there were never any hard feelings between them for putting their jobs first. In fact, things were going far better with Danielle than he had expected them too. Well enough that he'd moved some of his things into her place. A few change of clothes, toothbrush, hair brush and toiletries that were neccessities. It wasn't exactly moving in, but it was close enough to offer a strange kind of comfort. At the same time, Chase knew it could end tomorrow and he'd be okay with that. They would both simply move on, and knowing that to be the truth, Chase found himself able to relax and enjoy his time with Danielle. He'd even gone so far as to tell her some stories about himself, mainly because she never pushed him into talking, she just let it happen or not.

"So I'll see you later?" Danielle asked.

Chase was silent a moment, considering. "I think I'll head home tonight," he told her. "Go to bed early."

Danielle didn't even pause in her reply. "Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow then. Gotta go." She hung up.

Closing his phone, Chase slipped it back in his pocket. He didn't regret not hooking up with Danielle tonight. He really was tired and he was rather looking forward to some down town. Maybe he'd catch up on one of the dozens of movies he'd collected and hadn't yet taken out of the cellophane.

"Chase!"

He started at the sound of his name, turning to see House standing in his office doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago and it disturbed Chase a bit to realize House had snuck up on him. "It's late," he said. "Get someone else to run tests, or whatever it is you want me to do."

House studied him a moment, then he jerked his head towards his inner office. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Chase asked, to House's back. So he went into the office and stood in front of the desk, watching as House settled himself into his chair. "What have I done now?" He tried to think back over the days event and he couldn't think of anything.

"What makes you think you screwed up?" House countered, looking intrigued.

Chase decided not to answer that particular question, instead he just stared at House until the other man was shifting under his regard. Which was kind of cool. Chase didn't know he had the power to make House uncomfortable.

After a long moment of drawn out silence, House cleared his throat and said, "Do you think God saved me?"

"What?" Chase stared at House, feeling a wave of confusion wash over him. When House wasn't more forthcoming he responded with, "What are you talking about?"

"When I was shot." There was a definite implied Duh in House's tone.

Chase shook his head at him. "You're asking me if I think God saved you when you were shot?" He wanted to make sure he understood what was going on here, although he was pretty sure he would never fully understand House. Not that he was sure if he even wanted to understand him. Apparently it was going to be a moot point, since House simply stared back at him, instead of replying.

But Chase was good at the waiting game, so he did just that. He waited until House was forced to speak again, if only to kick him out.

"Why do you believe in god?" Was what House asked instead.

"I can't answer that." Chase didn't even hesitate. He just shook his head at House for even asking such a ridiculous question. Although he supposed that there were people who could answer it, readily enough. He just wasn't one of them and he thought House would know that.

House shifted in his chair, reaching for the ball on his desk and tossing it from hand to hand. "Why can't you answer that?" he countered, his voice sounding a bit strained. "You considered becoming a priest, which suggests you believe in god. What makes you believe in him?"

Chase was quiet for a long moment, trying to decide how to answer House. "Faith," he said finally. Which wasn't really an answer, but it was all he had.

"Faith?" House echoed, looking confused and not bothering to hide it. "Faith makes you believe in god?"

"We can't explain everything," Chase replied, feeling suddenly serene and confidant in what he was saying. "We have to take some things on faith. There's no greater test of faith than believing in god's existence."

House nodded at that, still tossing the ball from hand to hand. "And yet you became a doctor and not a priest. You traded faith for science."

Chase shrugged at that, because he couldn't discount what House was saying. And because he really didn't have an answer to it anyway.

"Did daddy dearest make you become a doctor?" House prompted, setting the ball aside and pinning his electric blue gaze on Chase's face.

"I'm going home," Chase replied, because no way in hell was he having this conversation with House. But he was curious enough to counter with a question of his own. One that had been burning on his tongue since this conversation began. "Are you asking me about god because you need something to believe in? Or because you can't figure out why the grim reaper didn't claim your soul when he had the chance?"

House chuckled. "Interesting choice of wording," he acknowledged. "Only the good die young, you know."

Chase did know. He knew it was a stupid fallacy. "Goodnight, House," he said softly, turning to go. He was glad when House let him leave without another word. But he didn't go home. He went to a movie so he could put off thinking about what House had asked him. But when he finally came home and went to bed, he stared at the ceiling for a long time, refusing to pray tonight. Refusing to give in to the instinct that made him believe in spite of himself. Because praying just made him feel guilty and he was tired of the guilt. He only wished he was tired enough to sleep. Resolutely he closed his eyes and thought about Danielle. Tomorrow night he would see her. Tomorrow night he would sleep again.

OoO

Three days later, Tritter came into their lives and things spiralled out of everyone's control. It wasn't something that affected Chase directly, not until Tritter decided to question him and Cameron and Foreman. Then the bastard did everything in his power to put suspicion on Chase and he didn't know how to fight against it. Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he felt the need to even try. He didn't care about what Foreman and Cameron thought about him, only he did want them to believe he was innocent. It mattered to Chase for reasons he didn't want to think about.

So he threw himself into work instead, managing to follow in House's footsteps when House faltered. He figured out what was wrong with Alice, only to receive a punch in the face for his troubles. Which he could have lived with, accepted even, without a single ripple in the flow of his life, if only House had acknowledged what he had done. All House had to do was say he was right. He didn't even have to apologize, because Chase had already forgiven him the punch. He had grown up with an alcoholic mother. He knew what pain did to a person, how it made them lash out at people. He should seen it coming and ducked. Oddly enough, the bruise hurt less than the truth. House didn't give a shit that Chase was right. Being right didn't change anything. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that. He wasn't sure he wouldn't finally walk away. Not run this time, but walk away without looking back.

Instead he ran into Wilson in the break room and he told him what happened, which freaked Chase out a bit. He and Wilson had barely said two words to each other in all the time Chase had been working for House, and now it was Wilson who was offering him words of wisdom with a touch of sympathy. Chase wasn't sure how to react.

"Did you get that looked at?" Wilson queried, his eyes locked on the bruise on Chase's jaw.

"It's fine," Chase replied, taking his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and dumping it in the trash. Food wasn't going to make him feel better. He didn't know if there was anything that would. He felt wired and jittery and like he wanted to punch something. Or someone.

Wilson watched him for a moment, and when Chase headed for the door, he cut him off. "Let's go for a beer," he offered.

That was the last thing Chase expected him to say and he wasn't sure how to respond. But he did know that the way he felt right now meant it was not a good time to be drinking. Chase had learned from his mother's example. So he looked at Wilson and shook his head. "I don't think a beer is a good idea," he stated.

"Are you taking something for the pain?" Wilson asked, slipping fully into doctor mode as he leaned in to study the bruising. "It's already swelling too."

"I know. It's fine." Chase stepped back, putting more space between them. "Thanks." He appreciated the fact that Wilson at least seemed concerned about him. It was more than he was used to getting, from anyone.

Moving further back, Wilson nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated. Then he sighed and blurted out, "What are you going to do?"

Chase didn't even pretend not to understand the question. Wilson wanted to know what he was going to do about House and the punch. He let himself think about it for a moment. What was there to do? He had saved the little girl and he felt good about that. He had wanted House to acknowledge he was right, but that wasn't going to happen and he had to accept it. So what else was there? House was suffering enough as it was, and Chase knew it wasn't over for him by a long shot. So he looked at Wilson and said, "Nothing. I'm going home." He made it to the door and all the way through without Wilson interfering.

Once he was home, Chase took a shower. He studied the bruise, fingering it slightly, wincing at the pain. He stared at the aspirin bottle then ignored it. He wanted to feel the hurt. He wanted it to be a reminder to himself. House would never give him what he needed, so he needed to let it go. He needed to put it behind him. Maybe it was time to move on.

He climbed into bed and turned on the tv and he drifted off to sleep and to dreams of his father.

OoO

It had been a shock to everyone to learn that Wilson had ratted House out to Tritter. Chase understood what Wilson was trying to do. He failed in his attempt of course, because House sabotaged everything. In the end it was Cuddy who saved the day, all the while believing that she owned House now. She just didn't get it and Chase knew she wouldn't believe anyone who tried to explain it to her. House would always be in control of his own fate and the fate of those around him. It was a lesson they all should have learned by now. He figured he hadn't, since he was still there.

Three months after Tritter was gone from their lives, House called Chase into his office. He stood before House's desk, trying not to fidget, waiting while House finshed a level on his gameboy.

"Time's almost up," House said, as he set the game aside.

"Excuse me?" Chase was more than a little confused.

House looked up at him. "You're fellowship is almost up. You going to sign up again?"

Chase narrowed his gaze at House, because the question had sounded almost like a challenge. "I have two months left to decide," he countered. Truth was, he'd been avoiding having to think about it. Cuddy had cornered him a couple of weeks ago, letting him know that he had a place in ICU if he wanted it, but she'd been pretty vague about what the actual offer was.

"You have until tomorrow morning," House countered, shoving a piece of paper across the desk at him. "Here's the offer, one time only." He pushed the paper again and it flew off the desk.

Pausing to glare at House, Chase bent to pick it up. He turned away to glance it over and felt his eyes go wide. "This is an offer as attending in diagnostics!" he exclaimed.

House snorted. "See. I told Foreman you British chaps can read English."

"There's never been an attending in Diagnostics," Chase stated, because he was trying to wrap his mind around what House was offering. "It's not an actual department." He said it to remind House of that fact, in case he'd forgotten. Or in case this was some elaborate joke at his expense.

"It is now," House replied. "I blackmailed Cuddy into it. Wasn't all that hard really. She likes me." He said the last bit with a leer.

Which Chase ignored. "Is this a real offer?" He waved the paper at House.

To his credit, House did nothing but smile and nod. "But understand what it means," he said sharply. "More responsibility all the way around. You'll be over Cameron and Foreman, which they'll both hate. And you'll take the fallout for their mistakes."

"Shit still runs downhill," Chase reminded him. Because, ultimately, all blame should still fall on House.

"Depends on the angle," House replied, smirking. "So what's it gonna be? Yes or no?"

Once again, it sounded like a challenge. Chase hated being challenged, but he knew the answer to this one was imprinted on his soul. "Yes," he replied.

House didn't look the least bit surprised. "Sign on the bottom. As of tomorrow morning you're officially in training. Don't tell Foreman or Cameron about it because I want them to be surprised. Got it?"

"Got it." Chase pulled out a pen and signed with a flourish. He then handed over the paper and resisted the urge to snatch it back. He was going to do this. He was going to prove that he could. To himself. This wasn't about proving anything to House anymore. At least, he hoped it wouldn't turn out to be that.

"You'll have more paperwork to fill out with Cuddy," House was saying. "She'll drag you into her office for that and no doubt give you a speech, after she tries to convince you not to take the job. I'm sure she'll try to talk you into running as far away from me as you can, as fast as you can. But you can't do that now since you signed your life away to me."

Chase almost smiled at that. "I didn't sign in blood," he pointed out.

House shrugged. "Close enough. Now go run some tests or something."

"We don't have a patient," Chase replied.

"Find one then. Something interesting." House was already back to playing his gameboy.

Chase realized he was smiling as he left the office. He felt as if a weight, he didn't even know he'd been carrying, had been lifted off his shoulders. He only hoped he wouldn't live to regret his decision. Instead of dwelling on that, he headed for the clinic to find a patient. He was going to be an attending diagnostician. It was time to challenge House a little.

OoO

It was three am and Chase couldn't sleep. He had invited Danielle over to his place for dinner. They had eaten, watched a movie, had fantastic sex and she had fallen asleep in his arms. But he was wide awake. Carefully he slid out of bed and pulled on sweat pants, then he padded into the livingroom.

Grabbing the phone, Chase dialled a number he had recently memorized. After three rings the voicemail answered. He waited a moment then left a message. "Hi, Olivia. It's Robert. I just wanted to let you know I signed the papers. I..I'm sure you already know that since the lawyer sent them to you. Um..." He paused, considering hanging up, then blurted out, "Thanks. I just..I wanted to say that." Making a face, Chase hung up, hoping that she wouldn't take the message as a sign to call him back. He wasn't even sure what made him make the call in the first place. Maybe the need to finish something his father had left undone.

Tossing the phone aside, Chase crawled back into bed. He curled into Danielle and closed his eyes.

He fell asleep five minutes before the alarm would go off.

Danielle turned it off and let him sleep.

**THE END**


End file.
